Heart of Ice
by Umei no Mai
Summary: Trapped by the Mafia and sent to Namimori to keep an eye on the son of the Vongola External Advisor, Helene tries to settle into her new life under an alias and look after her little brother. However when Sawada Tsunayoshi is made the Vongola heir her past and present begin to intersect...
1. Action

"_Action springs not from thought, but from a readiness fo__r responsibility" _G. M. Trevelyan, (1876 – 1962).

* * *

There was blood everywhere: spattered over the cupboards, sprayed across the walls and ceiling and dripping down into the spreading puddle on the floor around the cooling, headless body next to the kitchen table. The head had bounced off onto the countertop and was also seeping red fluid. The kaiken held loosely in her right hand was slippery with it, her sleeves and the front of her school uniform were tacky in places as the cooling liquid slowly congealed and her face and hair were decorated with a fine red mist of droplets. The air was thick with the smell of iron and copper, so thick she could taste it. The young woman currently attending middle school under the identity of fourteen-year-old Fukurōsu Setsume lowered the knife and gingerly fished a mobile phone out of her back trouser pocket with her left hand and fiddled until the name she was after came up. Pressing the call button she turned around to look down at the barely conscious and shivering form of the classmate she had been protecting. Murder or not, she felt entirely justified in her actions: Ayame-chan's father had no right whatsoever to abuse his daughter so and his attempt to enact the same cruelty upon Setsume to coerce her into silence made his death all the more deserving.

"Moshi moshi?" came the deep, pleasant voice of the second-in-command of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee, fourteen-year-old Kusakabe Tetsuya. Setsume had determined who really held the reins of power by her third day as a member of Namimori Middle School and accordingly acquired the necessary contact details. That had been six weeks ago and she knew the Committee had its eye on her; she was in no way intimidated by the thugs that made up the Committee nor by its leader, the violently aggressive and somewhat sociopathic Hibari Kyoya. Her punctuality and polite obedience to the rules helped, as did her impeccable grades.

"Kusakabe-san, I find myself in need of the Disciplinary Committee's assistance in a matter that has recently been having a knock-on effect on student affairs," Setsume said obliquely. "The matter itself is now permanently resolved, but dealing with the aftermath will require discretion and Hibari-dono's influence upon third parties in official capacities. If someone qualified in post-incident cleanup could come to the residence of Kawagishi Ayame I would be most grateful." Her choice of suffix when referring to the Committee leader was deliberate, the archaic term denoting her willingness to pledge herself to the distant and dangerous teen's crusade for order.

There was a brief pause on the line before she got her reply: "We will be there immanently, Fukurōsu-san." Setsume hung up as the dial tone rang in her ear and slid the phone back into her pocket. Finally setting aside the stained knife she had used to defend herself and her classmate from the advances of said classmate's father, the bloodied young woman turned to coax her younger friend out of her terror-induced catatonia.

* * *

By the time the quartet of large teens with pompadour hairstyles carrying suspicious-looking gym bags finally arrived at the front door Ayame was curled up on the sofa wrapped in a woollen blanket, still shivering but rather more aware of her surroundings. The frightened teen cringed back as her still blood-spattered friend opened the door to let Kusakabe Tetsuya and his three subordinates into the house. To their credit, the four boys were only momentarily taken aback by Setsume's appearance and stepped inside as if nothing unusual was going on at all, slipping their shoes off and toeing on slippers as if gore-encrusted young women answering the door were not particularly out of the ordinary.

"Most of the mess is in the kitchen," Setsume said, gesturing right towards the door to the room in question, "Along with the body and my kaiken, which I would like back. Kusakabe-san, I presume you would like a full explanation?"

"If you would, Fukurōsu-san," the tallest of the four teens rumbled agreeably as the other three opened the gym bags and started taking out bottles of bleach, overalls, plastic gloves and facemasks.

Setsume explained, beginning with her befriending of Ayame and her suspicions regarding the girl's timidity and academic problems, her flinching from the taller boys in class and preference for non-regulation clothing that covered more skin than the school uniform. She then proceeded through how she had eventually pressured the girl to invite her over so they could do homework together regularly and noticed how her friend's father's behaviour was not quite appropriate towards her. Then how today, when Ayame's father had not realised Setsume was in the house, the man had openly approached his daughter with sexual intent and made clear to anyone listening that this was a regular occurrence. Setsume had then intervened in defence of her friend, at which point Kawagishi-san had attempted to rape her instead. Setsume however had been armed with her late mother's kaiken and knew how to use it; Kawagishi-san had had his gut opened by the razor-sharp blade then lost his head to a perfectly executed swing.

"After which I determined that calling you was the best course of action, Kusakabe-san," Setsume concluded.

"Call me Tetsuya," the taller teen said, watching her with respect in his eyes as he chewed on a thin twig. "How were you planning on spinning this?"

Setsume shrugged. "Then call me Setsume, please. I clean up, call the police and say how my friend's father tried to rape me. When he saw I had a knife he ran off. I just need to make sure they take my word for it."

"Why involve the police at all?"

"Ayame-chan needs taking to the hospital and eventual therapy, which requires police involvement considering the nature of the trauma."

Tetsuya pierced her with a cool stare. "Not the first time you've done this, is it?"

Setsume could hear all the things being left unsaid, such as _not your first kill_ and _deliberate, premeditated murder_ as well as _you manipulative little bitch_. "I've killed people before," she conceded quietly, "not that I've ever faced charges." They had been mostly in self-defence and a few times in defence of a third party; she'd made her bones long enough ago that murder was now just another option on her mental list, if the very last one. "I don't enjoy it at all, Tetsuya-san, but some experiences change us for life."

The looming teen nodded acceptingly. "Hibari-san would like you in the Committee, Setsume-san; we find ourselves in need of someone capable and discreet managing our funds as well as coordinating with the student body. You are both capable and approachable."

Setsume could tell that this had been in the wind for a while and that Tetsuya had only made the offer now that she needed something from Hibari, namely whatever it was he had on the local Chief of Police and Hospital Director to smooth things over. However since she was in Namimori for reasons not at cross purposes with Hibari Kyoya's own aims, she was prepared to sacrifice a little freedom for the cause.

"My younger brother is currently attending the final year of Namimori Elementary, Tetsuya-san," she said frankly. "I am willing to join the Committee and pledge myself to Hibari-dono providing my brother is protected so long as he is attending a school under the Committee's oversight. I also refuse to carry out hits or assignments of a sexual nature."

Tetsuya seemed a little startled by her bald statement, but agreed that her terms were acceptable. Reassured, Setsume called her brother to ask him to bring a full change of clothes over to Ayame's house and went to have a shower before the bloodstains on her clothes could set.

* * *

Two days after the incident at her friend's house Setsume showed up at school wearing a Disciplinary Committee armband and thereafter spent several hours each day balancing the books, ensuring Committee members had all the necessary notes to do well on tests and complete homework and gradually got to know her new boss. Hibari Kyoya had more no-go zones than a minefield but Setsume rather relished the challenge; he was interesting for a fourteen-year-old boy and far more complex than any of his peers except Tetsuya.

Of course the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee was not her only responsibility; it wasn't even her most important one. It did however provide structure to her life, enabled her to meet new and interesting people and granted an excellent cover for the other things she had to do, including keeping an eye on Sawada Tsunayoshi. She and her brother had moved to Japan to get away from the Mafia, but her debt to the Vongola meant that when the head of the CEDEF had asked her to base herself in Namimori to watch over his son she had not been in a position to refuse. That she had to attend middle school again alongside children four years her junior was a result of Sawada Iemitsu's ridiculous overprotectiveness where his family was involved; only the fact that her brother was the same age as the External Advisor's son and therefore in the same class had spared her the fate of having to try and blend in with the twelve-year-olds. As it was she had to balance classes with an online degree course at a prestigious university, not to mention manage the businesses she had recently inherited. She rarely had a moment to herself anymore.

Helene Marshal had grown up alongside the Mafia rather than within it, all her connections to it being through friends and circumstances, but that didn't make her hate it any less. She wanted out rather desperately for both herself and her baby brother, but her parent's death the previous year had been the pebble that brought down the avalanche upon them both and escape now seemed a distant dream.

Not that she was going to stop hoping.


	2. Friendship

_The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed._ Carl Jung (1875 – 1961).

* * *

The name of the first friend Helene Marshal made after her father moved their family to Italy was Dino. Dino Cavallone, to be entirely precise. Despite being slightly less than two years older than the skinny foreign girl who barely spoke a word of Italian the first time he met her, the rather clumsy blond thirteen-year-old had latched onto her with all the ferocity of someone who has never been able to keep a friend for very long and within weeks the duo are inseparable. Of course, at that point each could barely understand a word the other was saying but Dino's irrepressible cheer and Helene's implacable drive for improvement enabled them both to muddle along well enough.

Of course, by this point Helene was already bilingual, being the daughter of Anglo-Japanese parents who had ensured both their daughter and their son were properly educated in all matters proper for one of her birth and status; her father was a younger son of landed gentry and her mother's family was ridiculously wealthy. Helene had not realised until attending primary school that most children only speak one language at home, which at five they had not yet learnt to write. Her little brother Titus was similarly ahead of the curve for his age, being able to read and write hiragana fluently and decipher basic kanji at five as well as read English.

Dino, who was very intelligent despite his rather vacantly amiable appearance and persistent inability to avoid tripping over his feet, had swiftly realised that his new friend was both a match for him intellectually despite the age gap and a source of new and interesting knowledge. Within a month of meeting Helene for the first time he had learnt to read hiragana and was borrowing her baby brother's manga so she could help him read and understand them. In return he taught his 'little cousin' –as he would ever after refer to her– Italian and lent her his comic books. He also persuaded her to help him with his English holiday homework and pronunciation in exchange for less well-defined lessons on games, habits, cultural norms and the other mysterious ineffables of his native culture that Helene was unaware of.

The two initially met on a June afternoon in a park within walking distance of both children's homes; by September, when Helene joined the second year of the middle school Dino was about to begin the third year of, Dino's English had improved dramatically and Helene was capable enough in Italian to make herself understood, if neither fluent or particularly grammatical. By Christmas sheer necessity had brought her to adequate competence and she was dazzling her teachers with her performance and had made several more friends. Dino however remained her best friend.

* * *

Dino's reasons for clinging so tightly to 'Elena' –he had difficulties pronouncing her actual name– were simple: every other friend he'd ever made had drifted away from him in a matter of weeks of never really bothered to get close. People within his Famiglia universally treated him with the due deference his position as heir seemed to require; people outside the Mafia either thought him an idiot, feared him for his connections or both. Helene was either blissfully unaware that he was heir to a large and influential Mafia Family or didn't think it mattered. He suspected the latter; she herself was of impeccable birth and breeding but he'd only found out by accident eavesdropping on his father as his minder was presented with the inevitable background check all the people he talked to more than once were subjected to. Helene never mentioned her background to him in anything but the vaguest of terms, seeming to think instead that it was the quality of a person's mind and character that mattered most. Her other friends exemplified this perfectly, running all up the scale from the daughter of a maid to the younger sister of a nobleman through a few businessmen's daughters. When someone told her to her face that Dino was the son of a Mafia man Helene had just asked, "and so?" with all the superior boredom of a queen. It was that indifference, that thoughtless acceptance that led Dino to swear to himself that he would never, ever let _this_ friend go.

He had started calling her 'little cousin' very early on, vaguely aware that, while the people he had befriended outside his Family inevitably vanished forever, those who belonged would at least stick around and talk to him for a bit. So, in a subconscious attempt to ensure his Elena wouldn't be made to stop talking to him, he 'adopted' her. When introducing her she was always "Mia cuginetta Elena", my little cousin Elena. Helena never objected and her parents seemed to find it adorable, so they never corrected him either. Dino's own father and various minders all tried at least once but his stubborn refusal to refer to her as other than his 'little cousin' eventually wore them down. He even introduced her as such at school with such nonchalance that everyone from the head teacher to the youngest student took it as fact.

By Helene's third week at the very swanky private middle school they both attended she and Dino had developed a routine that would last them to the end of the school year and considerably beyond, much to the disgruntlement of various third parties. Every morning Dino and his bodyguard would arrive at the house the Marshals were renting to collect Helene and whichever smartly-dressed Mafioso was keeping an eye on Dino that day would then accompany the two to school. When lessons ended at one in the afternoon the bodyguard would return and accompany the two back to Helene's house where the two children would do their homework, hang out and play with her little brother, who at just six had barely started elementary school.

Dino learnt a lot from his exposure to adults outside the Mafia and came to adore Helene's forceful, dutiful yet unabashedly loving mother and see her as the maternal influence he had been missing for as long as he could remember. Helene's father was more a figure to respect than love, but the dry humour and subtle, mocking wit that Hugo Marshal allowed to permeate every aspect of his life eventually infected Dino as well. Helene's father had a habit of posing him particularly tricky moral dilemmas then listening intently as he stumbled his way through the preconceptions the young teen hadn't even realised he had in search of an answer. His own father had little time for him due to work but he soon learnt that Mr Marshal was no less busy yet always made time for his children and Dino. It was his making time for Dino that cemented his best friend's father in his mind as the perfect role model: making time for your children's friends as well was definitely the mark of the perfect parent.

* * *

Helene was Dino's friend because Dino was the first person to ever inform her that they were going to be friends and not mess up on the follow-up. He had not demanded from her things she couldn't give, let her ramble and remembered what she'd said last time, reassured her when she was confused and helped her when she was having trouble. He didn't have any standards she had to meet and seemed willing, no, eager to give back as much as possible whenever she did anything for him at all. He was also very touchy-feely and would often wrap his arm around her when they sat next to each-other or grab her hand when they were walking together. True, this was often out of necessity –she had long ago lost count of the times she'd prevented him from losing his balance– but it was still nice. He also hugged her whenever they met or said goodbye, which was nice.

Her mother had informed Helene early on that Dino was mildly dyspraxic, so the preteen did her best to help her friend overcome his problems and counter them whenever possible. She had almost infinite patience for his persistent spatial awareness problems, was never cruel about his difficulty at placing one foot in front of the other and suggested various little coping strategies, some of which were successfully implemented, such as the ambidextrous calligraphy lessons. She even badgered her mother into teaching them both to dance, which had been by turns hilariously funny and dizzyingly successful: by the first anniversary of their friendship Dino was able to coordinate with her perfectly no matter what activity they were engaged in. However whenever he tried anything on his own he inevitably tripped over himself, which was just weird. Helene just shrugged it off as part of the wonderful mystery that was Dino and was perfectly happy to accompany her best friend anywhere he wanted to make a good impression.


	3. School

_School is learning things you don't want to know, surrounded by people you wish you didn't know, while working towards a future you don't know will ever come._ Dave Kellet (Sheldon 10-09-11).

* * *

Sawada Tsunayoshi was a teenager well aware of his own shortcomings: He'd only been attending Namimori Middle for a fortnight and already everyone was calling him 'no-good-Tsuna' for his terrible grades across the board, wimpy attitude and blatent lack of athletic ability. To be perfectly honest, Tsuna didn't mind all that much; he might be at the bottom of the class but at least he belonged. While most of his classmates called him by the derogatory nickname he was neither physically bullied nor socially isolated and he didn't mind being ignored.

Tsuna had never been particularly confident in his academic ability and as he rose through the grades at Namimori Elementary his position in the class ranking had steadily slipped lower and lower, not that it had ever been very good. Everyone else seemed to get progressively smarter as they passed through school; Tsuna however felt himself reaching his own limits just as he entered his teens. He couldn't decipher the phrasing on the new tests they were being set in middle school, struggled to adapt to the new teaching system and never seemed able to grasp what it was the teachers wanted from him. As a result his grades had plummeted and Tsuna found himself firmly at the bottom of every single class by a considerable margin.

Initially he had tried to improve his grades, but the short, scrawny teen soon realised that, while everyone from his mother to random classmates was quick to berate him for his poor performance, no-one was willing to help him do better; he struggled because he was Dame-Tsuna, 'no-good-Tsuna', and useless. Tsuna had therefore surrendered to the prevailing opinion and settled in for the long haul at the bottom of his class. The most depressing part of the whole experience was actually his mother's willingness to believe that her son was utterly useless, which was a big part of why he never really tried to do better. After all, his mother knew him best, didn't she?

* * *

It was nearing the end of his first month at Namimori Middle when somebody finally noticed that Tsuna wasn't participating in any of the various clubs the school had to offer. As joining a club of one kind or another was actually compulsory, it was surprising his lack of attendance had been overlooked for so long. Then again, people tended to overlook Tsuna: one of the few advantages of being considered 'no-good'. He was sitting in maths class and totally failing to understand what it was the teacher wanted them to learn when someone knocked politely on the classroom door. When Nankai-sensei went and opened it the entire class was frozen at the sight of Fukurōsu Setsume, the secretary of the universally feared Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee.

Tsuna and the rest of class 1-A had met Fukurōsu-sempai before; she was the elder sister of their classmate Fukurōsu Eiiko, a friendly yet private boy whose grades were consistently in the top ten regardless of subject. Short and wiry with dark blond curly hair and big, long-lashed green eyes, Eiiko looked almost nothing like his tall, mature sister, who wore her red-brown hair up in a knot on the back of her head and had such fiercely icy blue eyes that even the teachers had trouble meeting them. Tsuna was terrified of her on principle.

She stepped into the room, black slippers making no sound on the polished floor as she glanced around the room and instantly and effortlessly commanded the attention of all those present.

"What can I do for the Disciplinary Committee today, Nasake-san?" Nankai-sensei asked amiably as the class abruptly pulled itself together under the scrutiny of the third most feared student in Namimori. Tsuna shivered in his seat; he had started hearing stories of Hibari-sempai's infamous Nasake even before starting middle school and seeing her in person had done nothing to dissuade him of the accuracy of said rumours. Slim and forbidding, dressed in the Disciplinary Committee uniform with a red armband neatly stitched to her right sleeve, the young woman whispered to be the only person in existence able to sway Hibari Kyoya from his chosen course had a presence that made grown men twice her weight get out of her way when she swept down the hallways of the school. The ever-present closed fan sitting innocently in her curled left hand somehow made it worse.

"I'm here for Sawada-kōhai, Nankai-sensei," the older girl said politely, her impeccably respectful manner chilling Tsuna to the bone as he suddenly found himself at the centre of a whole lot of desperately unwanted attention. "The irregularities in his attendance record have necessitated my intervention."

Tsuna numbly rose to his feet, swept his equipment into his school bag and trailed after the only female member of the Disciplinary Committee, feeling the pitying eyes of his classmates on his back as he followed her out of the door and down the hall. The only thing preventing him from panicking or running away was the grim certainty that Nasake-sempai would approach Hibari-sempai for help in tracking him down, resulting in Tsuna getting 'bitten to death' by the head prefect in addition to whatever the older girl had in store for him already.

In one of the small music rooms near the Disciplinary Committee office Nasake-sempai Pulled out a pair of chairs and set them roughly facing each-other in the middle of the floor. "Please be seated, Sawada-kun," she said politely, not giving away even a hint of what horrors she had in mind for him. Tsuna edged onto the seat and slid his bag under the chair, trying to stay as far away from her as possible without actually moving.

"Sawada-kun, it has reached my notice that you haven't joined any of the clubs or committees available to the first year students," Nasake-sempai said calmly, hands folded in her lap over her furled fan. "As I'm sure you are aware, participation in at least one after-school club is mandatory, so you are currently in violation of the rules. I have yet to bring this infraction to Hibari-dono's attention."

Tsuna froze. Nasake-sempai had him trapped: whatever it was she had in mind he would be forced to comply with or else she would set the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee Leader on him. Hibari Kyoya terrified Tsuna due to his vicious and violent attitude and disregard for the wellbeing of others; however the cowardly junior was now of the opinion that Nasake-sempai was scarier. Hibari would just beat him bloody and be done with it but Nasake could pull his strings and make him dance to her tune. "What do you want, Nasake-sempai?" the thirteen-year-old quavered.

The older girl smiled gently, the expression softening her features a little. "You are clearly having difficulty transitioning into the middle school environment, Sawada-kun," she said pleasantly, "so I am inviting you to join the Study Club. Study Club is for those students experiencing academic difficulties: on joining you are assigned various tutors from the older years to help you understand the material covered in different classes. The tutors are paid for their time, so quite a number of the more capable students participate as it looks good for them after they graduate. Hopefully a little one-on-one attention from someone who understands the material will help you improve your grades."

Tsuna thought about it. On the one hand, it was an opportunity he wasn't all that interested in; on the other, there was Hibari-sempai and his tonfas. "Why are you making me this offer, Nasake-sempai?"

She smiled thinly, an expression entirely lacking in warmth. "Your performance is lowering the tone of the school."

Tsuna went white. This was really, really, really bad! If he didn't do better she might set Hibari-sempai on him anyway! "I'll join the Study Club, Nasake-sempai! I'll do better, I promise!"

"Good." Nasake-sempai's face softened again as she handed him a sealed envelope. "This is for your mother; it covers the costs involved in joining the Study Club, the societies' aims, standards and rules. We meet three times a week after school, so be sure to attend promptly and consistently." She rose to her feet. "Allow me to accompany you back to class, Sawada-kun."

Tsuna obediently slipped the envelope into his bag, rose to his feet and followed her out of the room. He trailed after her as she strode swiftly down the hall, head buzzing with how much trouble he was getting himself into as his body continued onwards on automatic. He was doomed. Doomed!

* * *

Knowing that continuing not to put any effort into his schoolwork would bring down the ire of the Disciplinary Committee upon him was all the motivation Tsuna had needed to improve. After a few meetings with gentle yet firm Kawagishi-sempai he was taking notes in class and trying to determine what his teacher wanted. Sometimes all he managed to get down was a documentation of his incomprehension, but that was better than being brought up in front of Nasake-sempai for 'not even trying', which only happened once. Kawagishi-sempai never had to threaten him with a repeat of the experience; Tsuna did not ever want to have to go though such an evaluation ever again. It had been as if Nasake-sempai had seen right through him and made note of every last one of his fears, insecurities and shortcomings, unearthing them with unerring accuracy and demolishing his denials and cherished personal delusions with a firm yet gentle hand. Tsuna had been reduced to incoherent tears within ten minutes and had departed half an hour later feeling drained yet somehow better. He still wasn't sure what had happened exactly but knew better than to give his sempais a chance to put him through it again.

Over the next month his grades slowly improved. He was still at the bottom of most of his academic classes but by a much smaller margin and he understood and remembered much more of the material that had been covered. He was slowly but surely getting more out of his teachers' lectures as well, though he was still consistently the worst performer in any and all physical activities. He was still Dame-Tsuna but it wasn't as bad as it had been and some of the teachers at least recognised that he was trying.

Then Reborn, the home-tutor-from-Hell who wanted him to become a Mafia boss, showed up and life got much, much worse.


	4. Parents

_The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children._ Euripides (484 BC – 406 BC)

* * *

Reborn initially had not the slightest intention of tutoring Dino Cavallone. He had only been an Arcobaleno for eighteen months and was still coming to terms with the physical handicap. The loss of his libido was another source of ire and he did not care how much of an honour this was supposed to be nor how much power it gave him access to, he wanted out. He was a hitman not a healer; a ruthless, infamous assassin. Being physically two years old for the foreseeable future was absolutely infuriating and being the Sun Arcobaleno was adding insult to injury.

In fact, from reading the reports he had been given by the ninth Cavallone boss Reborn was pretty sure Dino was the least suitable heir possible, being clumsy and vocally against everything even remotely Mafia related. However Signor Cavallone wanted his only son to succeed him and Timoteo had offered Reborn's services in shaping the teen into a capable boss, so Reborn would at least have to look like he was trying. If the brat was as hopeless as he sounded he would probably get himself killed in short order and that would be the end of that, ensuring both that the next Cavallone boss was competent and that Reborn would never have to teach a child ever again.

* * *

However the first time the hitman saw his prospective student none of the klutziness was in evidence: the blond teenager was teaching his so-called 'little cousin' to ride a horse in the paddock adjacent to the Cavallone racing stables and seemed perfectly in control of himself and his environment. This calm, authoritative and responsible side of Dino was not mentioned anywhere in the reports Reborn had been given, prompting the Arcobaleno to delay his first meeting with the boy until later. After the girl was sent home in a limo the young Cavallone's dexterity plummeted instantly and the boy got into an argument with his bodyguard about the proper behaviour for a Mafia heir: Dino insisted that he wanted nothing to do with the Mafia as he wanted to be a moral and upright person. When informed that his father wanted Dino to follow in his footsteps the young teen retorted instantly that his father was a shitty parent for wanting his son to become a criminal.

Reborn decided then and there that Dino would make an adequate student after all. He certainly had the potential, not to mention a healthy helping of willfulness to drive him forwards. The main problem was probably going to be the girl; Helene Marshal was about two years younger than Dino, a civilian and likely the source of the boy's anti-Mafia views. However she was also his best friend, so it would be for the best if he could win her to his side rather than drive her off.

Despite being something of a genius, Reborn had very little experience with children, particularly female civilian children. He would later determine that Helene Flora Marshal was an exception and that normal twelve-year-old girls were nothing at all like she was. Her impeccably polite antipathy and painfully reluctant tolerance remained however a thorn in his side for the next five years as she refused to distance herself from his 'no-good student' yet was similarly loath to be drawn further into the circles he was teaching Dino to move in. Wearing down Dino had been relatively easy in comparison, taking only eight months; Helene however remained aloof and wary to the bitter end and beyond.

* * *

Helene never allowed herself to forget that Reborn was a killer. He might look like an improbably dressed toddler but he was an assassin, someone who killed people for money; someone who had decided that he was good at killing people and enjoyed all that was involved in such a profession enough to take it on as a full time job. The only thing preventing him from killing her was that nobody had asked him to and he didn't seem the type to work for free. Nonetheless, Helene made an effort not to be overtly unpleasant and did her best to keep him where she could see him whenever he was around. Her unease around the tiny hitman was encouraged by her parents: her father made it clear early on that, while Dino was always welcome in his home, Reborn was not. Ever. Her mother consistently made herself scarce whenever the Arcobaleno was in the area and never, ever answered the door if it was Reborn ringing the bell; how she knew Helene had no idea. That Reborn was Dino's new teacher made things rather stressful for a time, but Dino solved it by moving their shared study time to his house, where his Famiglia were far more welcoming of the pint-sized intrusion.

About two months after Reborn's invasion of his life Dino realised that Helene was distancing herself and hunted her down to desperately beg her not to abandon him. He had divined –accurately– that it was Reborn's insistence that he would become a Mafia boss that was putting her off and pleaded desperately for her to stick around. Helene was deeply suspicious of the small orange flame burning on his forehead at the time of the discussion and politely ignored the fact he had hunted her down wearing only his boxer shorts; she could sense Reborn's fingerprints all over the situation. Once the flame winked out and Dino had calmed down a little Helene explained herself as coherently as she could:

"I don't hate you Dino; you are my friend and I know and care about you too much to ever hate you. However I find myself unable to feel anything but loathing and disgust for your father. I know your father is very important to you and that his approval is similarly important to you, but I find the fact that he is pushing you into becoming a Mafia boss utterly disgusting. Parents are supposed to want the best for their children, but your just seems to want to drag you down to his own level. I hate that. And Reborn scares me. Don't argue–" Dino seemed about to protest "–I know he's your teacher and you respect him. However I am nothing to him or to your father so I feel vulnerable. Besides the fact that, if you do become more involved in the Mafia, people will come after me in order to get at you, just like bad guys do in all the Manga. I don't want to stop being your friend but your family pushing you into becoming a Mafia boss makes it all very difficult for me to stay."

"I'm sorry," Dino mumbled miserably, hugging his knees. "Papa is moving me to a different high school as well, one for kids who belong to the Mafia. I won't know anyone and I'm not sure I'll get to make any friends."

Helene hugged her best friend tightly. "I'll still be your friend and I'll still be here," she promised. "You know where to find me, okay? Now let's get you a change of clothes before the mosquitoes decide you look like dinner."

* * *

Reborn, being who he was, eavesdropped on that conversation just as he had their previous heart-to-hearts and would their later ones. He was privately impressed by the twelve-year-old's shrewdness and awareness of what was at stake and made good use of the time Dino spent brooding over the conversation to determine the best way to answer the questions his no-good student would eventually ask. When, barely a week before he was due to start his new school, Dino finally asked Reborn what Helene was to him the hitman-turned tutor had an honest answer ready:

"She's part of your Famiglia Dino. Among traditionalists it is considered bad form to target the civilian women attached to a Famiglia, but some of the up-and-comings are less respectful of the conventions."

"So cousin Elena won't get hurt because of me?" Dino asked hopefully.

"She probably won't," Reborn corrected him, "but just to ensure her safety you'll have to be well-respected and have colleagues who know to protect her as well, so make sure you make some allies at your new school. A lot of young prodigies looking for patrons and young members of Famiglia allied to the Vongola attend there, so remember to network and establish yourself."

Dino's renewed enthusiasm made Reborn smirk under his hat. Dino was a klutz, a goof and incompetent in almost everything that involved putting one foot in front of the other but he was easy to motivate and really wanted to please and be praised. This innocent striving for approval made him putty in the Arcobaleno's tiny hands, though the assassin knew that he would have to keep a sharp eye on his student's best friend. Helene had the potential to be a fantastic asset or an absolute nightmare and her –highly rational– fear of him made it all but impossible for him to influence the situation either way. Hopefully there would be opportunities to influence the matter in his favour in the future.


	5. Youth

_The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy._ Alfred North Whitehead (1861 – 1947).

* * *

Helene received a phone call on the Monday evening of the last week in May from the head of the CEDEF, informing her that Reborn would be arriving in Namimori on Wednesday. When she asked why the hitman was coming to Japan when she knew for a fact he was still training Dino, Sawada Iemitsu informed her that the Vongola Nono had decided to make Sawada Tsunayoshi his heir and Reborn had been reassigned to oversee the boy's training. Iemitsu added that Reborn intended to stop by at her house before tracking down his new student for background information: as she had been responsible for his wellbeing outside the Sawada family home for the past fourteen months she knew more about him than anyone including Iemitsu himself.

The undercover nineteen-year-old made a few nominally polite and extremely cutting comments about the quality of Iemitsu's parenting abilities or lack thereof and his utter unsuitability as a role model for anything smarter than a puppy before agreeing to answer Reborn's questions and slamming the phone down. Helene had considerable respect for the diminutive hitman who had raised Dino from a rather flaky teen into a reliable and responsible young man but there was not even a smidgen of warmth between herself and Reborn. Before the incident that had wrecked her life at seventeen he had treated her as a very intelligent potential liability, ie with minimal respect and considerable caution. She had only met him once after the incident and then very briefly, but his attitude towards her had been very different: he had treated her as an adult. She hadn't seen him in almost two years but hopefully he would continue to treat her as a responsible, rational person with the right to make her own decisions.

* * *

When Wednesday evening came around Helene set about cooking dinner for herself, her brother and their prospective guest while also preparing bentos for the next day. With all her other responsibilities to consider she only managed to provide her brother with a freshly-cooked dinner two or three times a week, but she made a point of ensuring he always had a perfect bento to take to school. Having an attractive home-made bento was a necessity for social reasons, so Helene made sure to deliver an aesthetically pleasing and delicious packed lunch every single day. As her little brother was now thirteen she was starting to teach him how to cook and prepare meals himself, so that he could fend for himself if circumstances required it. He was still some way off being able to prepare his own bento without taking several hours but he was improving.

Helene tasted the sauce she had made, then went into the storeroom next to the kitchen to check whether the homemade pasta was dry enough to cook yet. It wasn't, but as Reborn had yet to arrive that wasn't a problem. She took advantage of the time she had to lay out and pack up the cold parts of the next day's bentos ready for the morning, when she would add the hot parts.

She had just tidied up and was laying out a selection of crudités on wooden platters when the doorbell rang, so she hurried through the kitchen to answer it, calling out to her brother as she passed to clear his homework off the dining room table and set out the cutlery.

The person at the door was Reborn, dressed in his usual miniature suit with his highly unusual chameleon perched on the brim of his hat. He greeted Helene politely in his usual fashion, made use of the tiny pair of house slippers she had purchased specially and offered her a gift. After the traditional Japanese to-ing and fro-ing over the present, which turned out to be several bars of very high-quality chocolate, Helene led him into the dining room where the table was now properly laid and homework-free and introduced him to her brother under both his real name –Titus Marshal– and his Namimori alias, Fukurōsu Eiiko. After informing Reborn that Eiiko was in the same class at school as Tsuna she left them to talk as she returned to the kitchen to fetch the appetisers and start cooking the pasta.

* * *

Reborn had considerable respect for Helene Marshal. Despite the tragedy that had shattered her family and nearly crippled her when she was seventeen she had immediately picked herself up again, refused to allow the Vongola to push her into doing anything at all without a clearly written contract and had taken rather drastic steps to protect both her brother and surviving family members from anything remotely Mafia related. The Carnival Massacre had been a low point for the Vongola, a terrible accident and Reborn recognised that if Helene had been even a few seconds slower Dino Cavallone probably would have died, destroying a longstanding alliance between the two Famiglia and maybe even plunging them into another Mafia war. Thankfully it had not come to that, but the tiny hitman recognised that he and indeed the entire Vongola owed Helene Marshal a great deal.

Unfortunately for the young lady in question, being owed by the Mafia was only slightly less onerous than owing the Mafia. Both the Cavallone and Vongola had immediately pushed the boat out trying to absorb Helene into the Mafia in order to mitigate the debt. Helene however had demonstrated admirable strength of will and managed to persuade Timoteo to enter into a long-term contract with her instead of recruiting her outright. The Cavallone had been marginally more successful in repaying her, largely due to Dino who had helped his father pick out a dozen mostly-legitimate businesses based in Japan, Italy and England to present her with as a thank-you.

Reborn had read the contract: as it stood it offered considerable benefits to both Helene and the entire Vongola Famiglia as well as their allies; however if it was broken the Vongola would have to make a number of very expensive concessions and never approach her again. It was a brilliant piece of paperwork that had likely cost Helene a considerable amount of money with a highly capable lawyer and a good part of why he now respected her as an adult: anyone who went to such lengths to protect their family was someone he could work with.

Most of all, Reborn recognised that Helene's childhood had ended with the Massacre and the deaths of her parents and that her actions since then were those of an adult making their own way into the world while assuming full responsibilities for her actions. He therefore could no longer realistically treat her like a child, because she wasn't one.

* * *

After dinner Helene allowed her brother to leave the table before settling down to talk to her guest about his prospective student.

"Tsuna-kun's main problem is that he has no role positive models," she said frankly. "He has likely been subconsciously aware from early childhood that his father has been lying to him, which means he considers Iemitsu to be useless and foolish. As sons naturally seek to follow in their father's footsteps, that leads to Tsuna feeling it is perfectly acceptable for him to perform so terribly at school. After all, his father clearly doesn't mind or he'd have said something by now."

Reborn winced slightly.

"His mother is a similarly poor parent: she feeds him, dresses him and ensured he has a roof over his head, but that is it. Children are not guinea pigs: they need emotional support as well. Sawada-san provides none of that, is perfectly happy to believe that her son will never amount to anything and tells him so with painful regularity. That the boy is a pathetic wimp is unsurprising and I'm amazed he has any drive to improve at all! I've been motivating him to do better at school through fear of retribution, which works, but he is having difficulty with the material and teaching methods and needs more confidence in himself. He actually understands more than his grades suggest, but he second-guesses himself because he genuinely believes he is stupid and therefore tests very, very badly." Helene paused. "If you are consistent, praise him when he does well and make sure he understands exactly what you want from him he'll rise to the occasion. He just needs people to believe in him. Well, he needs a role model and a support network, but I'm sure you are on top of that."

Reborn nodded. "Once I've been here a while I'll see about picking out some Guardians for him. You say he needs people to believe in him?"

"More than anything else. He has no idea how to take praise or how to respond to people wanting him to take the initiative or lead."

The tiny hitman smirked. "I have the perfect person in mind as his second-in-command then."

"I don't want to know," Helene said firmly. "Here are the phone numbers and addresses of the various companies I own in Namimori: considering what happened around Dino while you were training him I thought I should set you up with an open account and a tab with the construction, landscaping and waste disposal companies I own. One of the latter is a specialised toxic waste disposal company, by the way. I'll bill you on a monthly basis; send any complaints to Iemitsu as I think you've got a better chance of conning money out of him than I do."

Reborn chuckled. "I will do. Thank-you for your assistance in this matter, Signorina Marshal."

"Call me Fukurōsu or Nasake, Reborn. You never know who might be listening." Helene suggested.

"Nasake? Doesn't that mean sentiment or heart?"

"Mercy I think in this case," Helene replied ruefully. "I've found myself in the unenviable position of being the conscience for a local gang. Their leader is very attached to me; picture Dino's total opposite yet just as clingy."

Reborn smiled under his hat, said his goodbyes and left. Helene cleared the table, sorted out the dishes and went to check her brother was getting ready for bed. Tomorrow was, after all, another day and with Reborn now in town tutoring Tsuna there was bound to be an increase in her workload soon enough.

* * *

For Eggbert 3000, whose reviews make my day! I feel like I'm writing for an audience of one, so if more of my wonderful readers could make themselves heard that would be great...


	6. Passion

_It is the soul's duty to be loyal to its own desires. It must abandon itself to its master passion._ Rebecca West (1892 – 1983).

* * *

Squalo Superbi was a very, very angry fourteen-year-old. Just six months ago his life had been perfect: he'd killed Tyr, the Sword Emperor and gained control of the Varia, the Vongola Independent Assassination Squad. Of course, he'd instantly handed over leadership to Xanxus, the Vongola Ninth's youngest son; he'd pledged his support to the intense older boy when he had been just twelve and an up-and-coming swordsman. Once the Varia had sworn loyalty to Xanxus the sixteen-year-old had immediately started plotting his takeover of the Vongola proper and carried out his plan a mere three months later. However somehow everything had gone wrong: Xanxus was now frozen in a block of Zero Point Breakthrough Sky Flames in the basement of the Vongola mansion and was not defrosting by himself, meaning it fell to Squalo to keep Xanxus' plans alive and free him so he could become the Vongola Decimo.

The Varia had been reprimanded and punished for their part in the coup, but it was a mere slap on the wrist compared to what it should have been; more proof to Squalo's mind that the Vongola Nono was a weak old man. If Xanxus had been in charge he would have killed everyone involved to ensure nobody ever tried again. Nono's mercy only made Squalo more determined to find out how to free Xanxus and ensure he would ascend to the position of Vongola Boss.

Of course the punishment was still a setback: Squalo had been packed off to an elite Mafia academy and would only be allowed back at the Varia Headquarters during school holidays. Mammon had been fined and was on reduced pay, something that upset him more than anything else that could have been done to him and eight-year-old Belphegor had been assigned to a Vongola private tutor in an attempt to make him more than just a bloodthirsty slasher and teach him a bit of finesse. Of course, the tutor would also try to subvery Bel's loyalties to the Vongola Nono, but Squalo doubted they'd succeed; the mass-murdering child had joined the Varia out of boredom and almost worshipped Xanxus because the older boy let him kill just about anybody he wanted.

Leviathan and Lussuria were too old to be packed off to school but not bothered enough about money to be worth fining, so they were on probation and being allowed to continue taking Varia jobs under the supervision of Ottabio and whoever the Nono's Cloud Guardian had assigned. They were likely spending their time training the Varia's various foot soldiers and going on milk runs, both of which were frustrating and dull jobs that still had to be done and had previously been delegated whenever possible. Of course Levi was as desperately eager to please as a puppy, but Lussuria had a truly sadistic temper lurking under the flamboyantly gay façade and would likely find some way to make Squalo pay when Christmas came around and he was finally allowed to go home for a while.

In the meantime Squalo had to attend school with a bunch of brats without killing any of them, which sucked. He was going to be bored out of his mind, he just knew it.

* * *

As it turned out, Squalo was not bored out of his mind. True, most of his classmates didn't even dare approach him due to his reputation and loud attitude, but he'd somehow acquired a friend. Well, two friends actually: Dino Cavallone, future tenth boss of the Cavallone Famiglia and his 'cousin' Helene Marshal. Squalo had initially not actively chased off Dino due to the brat's family connections; Xanxus was going to be the Vongola Decimo so a good relationship with the next Cavallone boss was a good idea. Dino however had taken that initial grudging tolerance and somehow persuaded Squalo to spend more time with him, which had led a few weeks later to an introduction to Helene.

Helene was a brat, a bitch and a menace but, surprisingly, not trash despite being a civilian. She had a brain and knew how to use it and was remarkably tolerable for a twelve-year-old girl. Rather frustratingly her only reaction to finding out that he was the Second Sword Emperor was asking if it made a difference to what ice cream flavours he liked best –"What the fuck kind of question is that?" – but he could ignore the gratuitous disrespect since it only extended to his titles rather than his person. Helene was impeccably if often sarcastically polite, never commented on how loud he was unless he raised his voice even higher than usual and after asking about his prosthetic hand once never referred to it again. She also was religiously respectful of his personal space, never asked about what he did for a living but was happy to ask leading questions in whatever subject he wanted to talk about. Debates turned into shouting matches rather regularly, especially when Xanxus came up, but Helene was smart enough to let anything that pissed him off drop after a minute or so and kept track of what set him off so as to not do it next time.

Squalo kinda liked Dino despite the kid being a total klutz anytime he was out of sight of Helene and could put up with the girl without too much fuss. She was certainly less difficult than Bel and more predictable than Lussuria. Hanging around Dino and Helene also gave him an opportunity to practice his Japanese, which was not something to be looked down on. Mostly though the tall, silver-haired teen just wanted to get the whole school-thing over with so he could get back to helping his boss.

* * *

When Christmas finally came around Squalo finally admitted that Dino was a friend and Helene a sort-of friend, so he accepted Dino's invitation to come over to visit the Cavallone Famiglia during the holidays. However when the time to visit came Lussuria caught wind of it and insisted on tagging along, quite possibly out of sheer boredom but more likely because Lussuria was the one who insisted the Varia were a family and therefore wanted to know who his new friends were.

Rather worryingly Helene and Lussuria hit it off at once, likely due to Lussuria's persistently female delusions. The Sun Flame user somehow managed to con one of the Cavallone drivers to take him and Helene out shopping and dragged the newly-thirteen-year-old girl away, only to return late in the evening weighed down with packages. On the way back to the Varia Headquarters Squalo let the seventeen-year-old ramble on happily about all the shops he'd dragged his new friend to and what clothes and shoes they'd tried on and how much fun it was to have someone to do 'girl things' with. Squalo kept his mouth shut and silently swore that he would do everything he could to cultivate his currently-superficial friendship with Helene if it meant that Lussuria would stop dragging him out to go shopping and take her instead.

"… and I bought her a mobile because she _needs_ one and I've got her number so we go out again together sometime…"

Yes, Squalo decided, Helene was definitely someone he was going to cultivate. He hadn't seen Lussuria this chirpy since that one –gruesomely mentally scarring– occasion he'd strong-armed Levi, Squalo _and_ Ottabio into going shopping with him. Levi still twitched at the sight of florescent orange and Ottabio seemed to have blanked out the entire day to the point of not even remembering it had happened. If Helene could keep Lussuria distracted from trying to style Squalo's shaggy, growing hair and giving him fashion tips then he would learn to get along with her. Helene was less likely to kill him through sheer frustration than Lussuria's shopping sprees were.


	7. Gift

_The spirit in which a thing is given determines that in which the debt is acknowledged; it's the intention, not the face-value of the gift, that's weighed._ Seneca (5 BC – 65 AD).

* * *

When Helene walked into the waiting room adjacent to her main office in the building that housed both the construction and rental companies she owned in Namimori she was a little surprised to find her secretary waiting for her and a very bad-tempered looking teen slouching in one of the chairs with a gym bag at his feet.

"Fukurōsu-sama, Gokudera-san arrived here shortly after noon and refused to leave without seeing you," the smartly dressed, middle aged woman murmured politely to her boss. Considering it was now rather late in the evening, Helene was honestly surprised he'd waited this long. Then again, if he was who she thought he was, he likely had nowhere else to go.

"Did you offer refreshments?" she inquired of the secretary; lunch had been a very long time ago after all.

"Aa, Fukurōsu-sama: an hour ago. He accepted them." Good. That meant that, no matter how grumpy the boy looked, he wasn't actually physically uncomfortable.

"Gokudera-san, I am Fukurōsu-san; I believe you wished to speak with me?" Helene said, opening the door to her office. Do come in so we can discuss you reasons for coming here in private."

The scowling silver-haired teen slouched after her into the office and threw himself down into the chair facing her desk as soon as she herself was sitting down. So he _was_ aware of how he was supposed to behave in formal situations; interesting that he chose to skirt the edge of outright rudeness but never quite cross the line. As soon as he was sitting down he fished a trio of letters out of his bag and almost threw then onto the desk.

"Dr. Shamal said I should come here first," he muttered by way of an explanation, scowling down at the desk as if it had personally slighted him.

Helene was –reluctantly– well-acquainted with the infamous Doctor Shamal as he had been the one to take over her treatment once she was released from hospital after the Carnival Massacre. In fact, she was due another check-up with him in the autumn. He was technically a specialist in infectious diseases but he was also an able physiotherapist, not that he got much opportunity to practice as he refused to work on men and was compulsively flirtatious with every woman he set eyes on. Helene had dealt with the perverse behaviour by staring the doctor down with blank, icy incomprehension, which had got him to behave more professionally while muttering grumpily about Yuki-onna. She was however consistently polite to him as she owed him every last inch of her continued mobility and knew it. This meant she was the only woman Dr. Shamal had ever met who wasn't angry with him most of the time as well as the only one willing to do anything resembling a favour.

With all of that in mind, Helene opened the letters. Well, opened two and reopened the third one.

The first letter was the open one, was addressed to Hayato Gokudera at a PO box in Italy and was from Reborn. Skimming it Helene picked out seven misrepresentations of varying severity and two outright lies but did not comment on any of them, not wanting to get involved in whatever scheme the tiny hitman had in mind for Tsuna-kun.

The second letter was from Dr. Shamal and about Gokudera, giving her a brief overview of his background and personality. It also contained a request for Helene to ensure the proud, prickly boy managed to find somewhere half-decent to stay while he was in Namimori. Helene knew perfectly well that is was not legal for fourteen-year-old boys to live alone in Japan but recognised that if she didn't overlook a few rules the boy would find himself paying a ridiculous ammount for a one-room scum hole in a bad part of town, so she would risk it.

The third letter was from the Vongola Nono himself, disguised as a more mundane piece of correspondence. The letter stated that Reborn had informed the aging boss that Hayato Gokudera would be Tsunayoshi Sawada's Storm Guardian and that as such he would receive an allowance from the Vongola towards living expenses and weaponry. Helene had been selected to manage the account and ensure the boy was suitably subsidised.

With a sigh Helene returned the first letter to Gokudera, shoved the second through the shredder and slid the third into her 'to-be-filed' pile. "Gokudera-san, Reborn has invited you here so all I can ask is that you behave responsibly and try to refrain from causing property damage. If you wait a few minutes I will see about getting the necessary paperwork for you to rent a flat."

"I don't need your help, Fukurōsu-san!" Gokudera burst out. "I can mana-"

"Gokudera-san, you may be perfectly capable of looking after yourself but you are still fourteen," Helene interrupted firmly. "No-one in town will be prepared to rent you anything even remotely comfortable without a hefty bribe and even then it will be barely adequate. I own two apartment buildings and can arrange for you to rent a small flat through my internship project."

"Internship project?" the teen repeated suspiciously, but did relax slightly back into his seat.

"My company has a permit to employ minors part-time and provide housing for those whose commute would be too long to be feasible," Helene explained briskly. "In exchange for reduced rent you would work for me eight hours weekly, preferably a full Saturday or two afternoons during the week."

"What kind of work?" Gokudera seemed a little less defensive.

"Office work or an apprenticeship in my demolition business," Helene tempted the younger boy. Dr. Shamal's letter had mentioned that Gokudera was an explosives expert so the opportunity to gain an official qualification in demolitions would likely be too much for him to refuse.

She was proved right when his expression lightened slightly. "I'll take the apprenticeship," he muttered. "What're the conditions?"

"Minimum of two years with the company before you are permitteded to go freelance, reduced rental and access to our explosives supplier, though anything not strictly for work is out of your own pocket," Helene said briskly, pulling out an internship contract and ticking the necessary boxes. As this business had belonged to the Cavallone before it had been given to her the internship contracts were written a little differently, but Gokudera was a Mafia brat so wouldn't have a problem with it. "We won't release anything to you that you haven't proved capable of using but I'm sure you'll breeze though the first dozen proficiency and safety tests pretty quickly."

While the fourteen-year-old read the contract and filled in the boxes she went out to ask the secretary to get the key and contract information for one of the empty studio flats in the building nearest the centre of town. She also handed over the bank information the Vongola Nono had sent her to go directly into paying Gokudera's rent and providing him with an explosives allowance. As he was the only apprentice currently working for that particular company, the boy would have no reason to suspect his meagre salary was being padded with Vongola money.

* * *

It was more than two weeks later that she spotted Gokudera again, right after a barrage of explosions and whispering in the corridors of Namimori Middle about an earthquake in the playground and Tsuna being seen running around in his underwear again. Having witnessed that kind of thing herself when Reborn was training Dino, Helene had hurried towards the scene and came up behind Nezu-sensei as the teacher was trying to hide the old test records Gokudera had retrieved from a time capsule. Gifting the fraudulent man with an arctic smile she removed the papers from his grasp and went looking for Hibari, who would doubtless want to express his own displeasure in person.

She found the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee Leader menacing Tsuna and Gokudera for their destruction of the playground.

"Hibari-dono, it appears Nezu-sensei has falsified his qualifications," she said as she came up behind Tsuna and made him jump. The head prefect hesitated, torn between handing out his unique brand of justice to the two delinquent students in front of him and hunting down the teacher who had so defied his attempts at maintaining order in Namimori Middle.

"I'll see to it that these three pay for the playground, Hibari-dono," she added helpfully. Hibari nodded and hared past her, headed for the teachers' lounge.

"Thank-you Nasake-sempai!" Tsuna quavered as Gokudera recognised her and started in surprise.

"I meant it when I said you would pay for the damages," the secretary of the Disciplinary Committee said threateningly, but as Reborn-san is the only one present with sufficient income and Gokudera-san was the original instigator I do not think it is appropriate for Inu-Kubō to be forced to take responsibility."

"What did you just call Jūdaime?" the silver-haired teen demanded, producing more dynamite from somewhere even as Tsuna tried to calm the other boy down.

"Dog Shogun," Helene said serenely. "I suggest you look up the fifth Edo Shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi if you want to know more about why I picked that particular nickname."

"Jūdaime is named after a shogun?" Gokudera asked, brightening abruptly and making the dynamite disappear as quickly as it had appeared. "I am even more honoured to be his subordinate!"

"I don't want a subordinate!" Tsuna moaned, clutching at his hair.

"You have been given a great gift, Sawada-kun," Helene said with deceptive mildness. "Loyalty is worth more than gold, so I trust you will prove yourself worthy of the faith Gokudera-kun has in you."

"H-h-hai!" the nervous teen stuttered, eyes wide and face pale.

"Good; I look forward to witnessing your improvement," Helene went on much more pleasantly. "Reborn-san, I meant it when I said I would bill you. Gokudera-san, considering your grades would you willing to tutor the less able students a few times a week to work off your debt to the school or would you prefer to pay in cash?"

"I'll do the tutoring, Fukurōsu-sempai," Gokudera said grudgingly, eyes flicking to Tsuna's desperate pantomime urging him to go along with the older girl.

"Please call me Nasake; everyone else in Namimori does," Helene replied serenely. "I'll see to it that you get a timetable. Now I believe you two have class now, so don't let me keep you."

* * *

Thanks to yuki-chan, newest reviewer! It is wonderful to hear from people who enjoy reading my stories!

Seriously though, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi was a rather interesting Shogun, even just going by his Wikipedia page. Considering Tsuna and his background, the actual historical character information makes for entertaining reading.


	8. Five

_A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five._ Groucho Marx (1890 – 1977).

* * *

Helene was working on the accounts in her tiny Disciplinary Committee office when her black cell phone rang. Helene had two cell phones: The black one was her Namimori phone, black, robust and relatively basic, the contract for which was under her identity of Fukurōsu Setsume. This was the phone her NDC colleagues had the number for; the number she gave to her classmates.

Her other phone was silver, sleek and top-of-the-line with a wireless internet connection and more safeguards than a bank. It was her 'Business' phone, the contract was under her real name and the number was the one her various Vongola contact had. It was also the one her various businesses outside Namimori used to get in touch with her in emergencies and the number she had given to her surviving family members. The silver phone belonged to nineteen-year-old Dame Helene Marshal, Baronetess Marshal of Hartwell, Vongola contractor, so when answering it she spoke exclusively English or Italian. This helped her distinguish it from her black phone, which she answered in Japanese.

Checking the number that had come up –one of the junior NDC members she had charged with keeping an eye on Tsuna's place– she answered the phone:

"Moshi moshi?"

"Nasake-san, a small, armed child with a black afro and a cow outfit was just thrown out of Sawada's bedroom window with a grenade," came the gruff voice of the teen on the other end of the line. "The grenade exploded in mid-air and there was no damage to either child or infrastructure, but the noise was… considerable."

"Cow-print, you say?" Helene repeated thoughtfully. "Continue observing; I will see to this personally."

"As you wish, Nasake-san." He hung up. Putting that phone down, Helene double-checked that her office door was locked and the window closed before fishing out her sleek silver cell phone. Cow-print clothing and grenades sounded like a member of the Bovino Famiglia, which meant she'd have to call Iemitsu and get him to give her the number of their official contact. Child or not, the Famiglia should have warned her if they were sending someone to Namimori and that they had not done so suggested this was not an official hit. Thus, the child was either a genius or utterly oblivious and his Family had likely misplaced him.

* * *

It took her twenty minutes to extort the Bovino Family's contact details from Iemitsu, after which she had to wait half an hour for the External Advisor to call the Famiglia himself and let them know she was attached to the Vongola and in charge of Namimori. When she finally got through to the Bovino she spent an hour on the phone bargaining with someone called Ottavio who referred to themselves as female –but probably wasn't; Ottavio was a man's name– about the child, who was probably a five-year-old boy called Lambo who had a one-sided rivalry with Reborn and had vanished the day before. Ottabio insisted that Lambo was a good child, if rather enthusiastic, and would benefit from some foreign experience and discipline. Helene could tell this meant the boy was a spoilt terror whose family had no time to raise him properly and successfully demanded an extortionate monthly amount to care for him plus a living allowance to pay for the boy's needs. Ottavio agreed, tacked on a considerable sum as the boy's arms' allowance and agreed to send everything through Iemitsu before the weekend.

Just before Helene put the phone down Ottavio added almost as an afterthought that one of their weapon prototypes had also gone missing, and that it turned out Lambo had it could she make sure no-one else got their hands on it? It was rather valuable.

Growling slightly at the dial tone ringing in her ear before she could reply, Helene put the silver phone back on silent and shoved it into her back pocket. Ottavio had noticeably failed to request she confiscate the weapon from Lambo –if indeed the boy had it at all– which meant that if he did have it all she could do was try and prevent anyone else from stealing it. The Bovino clearly considered weapons to be toys and children injuring themselves with them would just teach the survivors to be more careful. Rather miffed at being left holding the baby –as the saying went– Helene set aside her accounts for the day, grabbed her bag and stalked out of the office. It was dinner time now and dealing with the Bovino meant she would be getting home late. First though she would have to collect Lambo from the Sawada house.

With that in mind she set off at a brisk walk and called her man at the scene with her Nami-phone.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Good evening, Aoike-san," she said shortly as she rounded the corner away from the school campus. "Any changes?"

"Sawada took the boy out of the house and down to the river for an hour and a half," came the answer, "then brought him back in time for dinner. I believe they are eating no-" there was an abrupt pause on the line.

"Aoike-san?" Helene repeated, concerned. "Aoike? Jin? Are you there?"

"Nasake?" came the rather distant answer. "I… Nasake-san, a teenage boy wearing a pair of cow horns just ran out of Sawada's house in tears and turned into the child from earlier in a puff of purple smoke."

That sounded like it might be the weapon prototype. Helene had learnt long ago that where the Vongola and their allies were concerned little things like the laws of physics were merely inconvenient suggestions that were frequently ignored. It was safer therefore to ignore _how_ things had happened and focus on _what_ had happened. In this case, that someone in the Sawada household had upset her new charge. Considering that Iemitsu hadn't been home in over five years and Sawada Nana was pathologically incapable of upsetting anyone other than her son, that left Reborn or Tsuna. However Aoike Jin had seen Lambo getting along fairly well with the young Vongola heir, which left the miniature hitman.

Considering the five-year-old had proclaimed himself Reborn's rival, him being the one who upset the kid sounded all too likely.

"I'll be there in two minutes, Jin-san," she said firmly. "Don't worry about what you saw; I know what happened and you aren't going mad, I promise."

"Thank-you, Nasake-san," Aoike Jin replied a little more confidently. "I'll see you soon."

Pocketing her mobile, Helene picked up the pace. She needed to be there _now_.

* * *

Helene arrived outside the Sawada family home just in time to witness a massive explosion outside the open front door and catch the small child flying through the air. The boy in her arms looked to be no more than five years old, had a massive afro of black curls that extended under his chin with little cow horns sticking out of the sides above his ears. He was wearing a cute cow suit with a little tail that would not have looked out of place on a toddler and was covered from head to foot in soot, as well as having dried blood on his forehead, a runny nose and thick tear tracks down both cheeks. All in all, he looked exactly like someone who had just been humiliated by the world's greatest –and shortest– hitman.

"W-who are you? Why did you catch Lambo-san?" the little boy asked her in Japanese.

"I am Fukurōsu Setsume, Lambo-chan," Helene said, smiling at the child in her arms, "but my friends call me Nasake. Your aunt Ottavio called me and asked me to look after you for as long as you are in Japan." She switched to Italian. "She also said you might have a weapon prototype with you."

"The Ten year Bazooka?" Lambo ventured, slipping back into his native Italian. "Does Lambo have to give it back, Nasake?"

"No, you just have to look after it," Helene reassured him. "Now let's take you home."

"Fukurōsu-san? Do you know Lambo-chan?" asked Sawada Nana, who had just stepped outside her front door.

"His family left him in my care, Sawada-san," Helene said politely, reverting to Japanese as she perched Lambo on her hip and fished a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe his face with. "Here Lambo-chan: blow your nose."

Nana looked on dotingly as Lambo made a snorting sound into the handkerchief. "That's so kind of you, Fukurōsu-san! I'll make sure Reborn-kun knows his friend lives with you."

Helene politely did not say what she thought of _that_ statement. Instead she thanked the oblivious woman and left, waving discreetly to Aoike as she passed under his observation point so he knew that he could leave for the night.

* * *

Lambo was completely tired out so Helene had very little difficulty carrying him home. He became a rather more lively when he realised she wanted to give him a bath but complied when she pointed out firmly in Italian that she did not want him making a mess of the sheets after playing all day. He was more agreeable after being given the smallest guest room to keep his weapons and other possessions in and passively allowed Helene to bathe him and wash his hair. For his good behaviour she rewarded him with a small bowl of grapes –she had paid attention when he introduced himself on the way home– after he was dry and wearing a small yukata that had once belonged to a much younger Eiiko. Lambo perked right up at the sight of the grapes and babbled happily for the next half-hour, by which point Helene decided it was time for bed and took Lambo to clean his teeth.

It turned out that, while baths were not a serious problem, Lambo absolutely hated cleaning his teeth. What should have taken two minutes turned into a ten minute fight in the bathroom followed by a five minute chase around the house with the short boy screaming his head off the whole time. When Helene finally cornered him Lambo was about to use the Ten year Bazooka; she snatched him away from him, punished his tantrum with a sharp smack to his behind then carted him back to the bathroom and cleaned his teeth for him. She must have looked very, very scary as Lambo sat silently and didn't make a sound despite his discomfort until after she had him wash his mouth out with water and spit to get rid of the froth, at which point he promptly burst into tears.

Feeling a little ashamed of herself for her part in his outburst Helene hugged him tightly and assured him she didn't hate him at all, he had just been behaving badly and disrespecting her and now he had been punished she wasn't angry with him anymore. No, she wouldn't smack again unless he was very naughty; if he wanted to be a good hitman when he grew up he would have to learn to follow the rules and behave himself. Lambo took this to heart and soon calmed down, eventually falling asleep in her arms. Feeling a little gooey inside at how cute he looked asleep Helene tucked the small boy up to one side of her own huge double bed and went back to put Lambo's cow suit in the wash. As it was the only clothing she had so far that fitted him it needed washing.

* * *

Helene is titled in her own right! That's right; she's a member of the Peerage. So's her brother, but he's got his own titles inherited from their father. She also winds up looking after Lambo on behalf of the Bovino.

Aoike Jin is what I've named one of the numerous minions Hibari has within the NDC to do his bidding. He is therefore a sort-of OC, as the only person in canon who is both named and within the NDC is Kusakabe Tetsuya. However since this story focuses more on Hibari and the NDC than the original canon I decided those minions needed names.

* * *

yuki-chan, thanks for the note on which guardian Gokudera was: I'd gotten confused with Hibari!


	9. Game

_You lean a lot about people when you play games with them._ Laura Moncur (1969 - ).

* * *

Yamamoto Takeshi was an easygoing soul. He loved baseball, loved and admired his father and had recently come to the conclusion that Sawada Tsunayoshi was a good person and one he would forever regret failing to befriend. Therefore he had put the angst of breaking his arm and his –incredibly stupid– suicide attempt behind him and the morning after the cast came off he approached his younger classmate again before school and started a conversation. Tsuna seemed a little nervous, so Takeshi tried to break the ice a bit with a joke. He did manage to make his new friend laugh, which was great; Tsuna was far too nervous. He always seemed to be waiting for someone to jump out at him and beat him over the head just for enjoying himself, which wasn't healthy. Takeshi decided Tsuna needed to learn how to have fun and that –as his friend– it was up to him to help.

He didn't really notice Gokudera Hayato, Tsuna's self-proclaimed subordinate, scowling thunderously at him in every single one of their shared classes, so he was rather surprised to be called out by the silver-haired teen and then subjected to a stare so intense it seemed like the younger boy was trying to set him on fire. He offered the angry boy his milk carton on the basis that frustration was caused by lack of calcium; at least, that was what his father had always told him when he was having trouble with his studies or with baseball and the milk had always seemed to help. Then Tsuna himself showed up with a little kid in a suit.

The kid introduced himself as Reborn, the Vongola family hitman, which sounded like a pretty good game to Takeshi. Being a dedicated baseball player he knew how important games were: contrary to what most people believed, games were a serious business. So he played along, apologised and was rewarded with an invitation to join the game. That sounded fun, especially when it turned out that Tsuna was the tenth boss of this Vongola family Reborn was the hitman for: it would give Takeshi more opportunities to help Tsuna have fun! So he agreed to play and pass the entrance test so he could join the family.

Things got a little hectic after that.

* * *

Helene was in her office finishing the accounting work she'd had to leave undone the previous day in order to deal with Lambo when she heard the explosions. Her first thought was that Reborn was doing something until she remembered that the Arcobaleno preferred guns; explosions were Lambo's thing. As soon as that thought registered Helene was out of the office and dashing down the hall towards the muffled fwumping sounds and the sharp bark of a submachine gun. Thankfully Hibari was halfway across town dealing with an overly ambitious Yakuza gumi today, otherwise there was no way she could have prevented him from biting to death those responsible for the cacophony she was hurrying towards.

Just as she had left the main building and set off at a dead run towards the baseball pitch her ears rang with a crackling boom like a lightning strike at close range. Fearing the worst she hurried around the corner of the sports' building just in time to see Tsuna half-hanging over Yamamoto Takeshi's shoulder next to a shallow, burnt crater in the ground. Gokudera and Reborn were standing close by with no weapons in sight and halfway up the outside staircase going up to the roof of the sports' building was an unfamiliar teen with curly black hair wearing a cow-print shirt who had a missile launcher balanced on one shoulder. Feeling that at least this was something she could deal with, Helene slipped quietly up the steps towards the stranger.

"Who are you and what, exactly are you doing here?" she asked icily, eyes narrowing threateningly. Tetsuya had told her that this particular expression made her look like she was deciding where to hide your body after killing you slowly, so she tried to use it sparingly. This particular situation however merited extreme measures.

The teen spun quickly, sliding the heavy firearm off his shoulder. Once he was facing her he paled, both eyes going wide. "Mamma?" he squeaked.

Helene paused. That expression, the hair, the facial structure and the cow-print shirt, not to mention what Aoike said the day before…

"Lambo-chan?"

The teen dropped the missile launcher and threw himself at her, threading his arms under hers, lifting her half off her feet and hugging her close while babbling in Italian and sobbing into her hair. Helene managed to decipher "missed you", "love you" and "don't go" interspersed with him calling her 'mamma' a lot as she patted him on the back and tried to get him to calm down. It seemed that at some point in the next ten years she'd become her small ward's mother figure and that he hadn't seen her in quite some time. Some of what he was saying didn't make much sense, yet she still managed to get a vague sense of impending doom. Before she could ask for clarification however there was a puff of purple smoke and she was holding five-year-old Lambo again.

"Ma- Nasake-san?"

"What were you going to call me, Lambo-chan?"

Lambo looked a little nervous. "Lambo-san was going to call you 'mamma', Nasake-san. Can I?"

Helene smiled faintly. Why delay the inevitable… "I don't mind at all, Lambo-chan."

Lambo slipped out of her arms and bounced happily over to the discarded weapons. "Yay! Lambo-san is undefeated!"

"Lambo…" Helene said warningly, "What did I say about firing weapons at Namimori Middle?"

The small boy suddenly looked shifty. "Ano… not to, mamma?"

"That's right. Did you do as you were told?"

"No?"

"That's right. You didn't. As such, as a punishment you won't get any sweets today."

"Noooo!" Lambo looked utterly horrified.

* * *

Short and sweet. Takeshi is fairly easy to understand, so he only gets a little screen-time. TYL!Lambo however gets a bit more.


	10. Victory

_The best victory is when the opponent surrenders of his own accord before there are any actual hostilities… it is best to win without fighting._ Sun Tzu (~400 BC).

* * *

Nasake stumbled into her bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress, not bothering to shed the lightweight yukata and tabi she was wearing. July had thus far been a month rife with stress, pain and far more work than she could reasonably manage. She had not even had time to spend a meal with her little brother in ten whole days and had been forced to call Sawada Nana and ask her to babysit Lambo during the daytime over two weeks previously. Lambo seemed to be coping and she had attempted to compensate for her consistent absences by reading him a bedtime story every night, regardless of how exhausted she was. Lambo had behaved for her, but the state he had often been in when she collected him from the Sawada household made her budding maternal instincts scream and Nana-san's blithe obliviousness to the little boy's health made her wish there was someone –anyone– else she could trust with her mafia bratling.

Her problems had started in the first week of July when the Poison Scorpion had arrived in Namimori, giving barely enough notice for Nasake to warn the manager of her small toxic waste disposal business of the likelihood of needing to hire more people and set aside funds for overtime. A small health bulletin had been posted through peoples' doors, nothing fancy just a flyer asking people to report dangerous waste spillages in their area. A considerable number of birds had died and the drainage system had been partly contaminated but fortunately the hot weather meant that there was very little water moving, so the spillage had been contained. Fortunately the Mayor had been happy to subsidise the cleanup and the company had more than doubled in size in under a month, enabling Nasake to sanction the creation of specific protocols for poison cooking and have people specialise in its disposal.

Dealing with a potential health crisis at the same time as the end of the spring term had been hectic, forcing her to delegate a good chunk of her accounting to someone hired specially for the job. Nasake really hated delegating the financial oversight of her various businesses to a third party but she literally did not have the time to sift through all the expenses and income of the different companies to dig out the bad practice, mismanagement and poor choices made in the past financial year and hunt down the responsible parties and their accomplices. Hiring a chartered accountant was expensive and rather foolish considering she was herself qualified but the work needed doing as soon as possible and there were other things that needed her personal attention, so she would have to settle for going over someone else's notes and trusting their professionalism.

* * *

The main problem she had been dealing with during the bulk of the month of July was the overly ambitious Yakuza gumi Kyoya had administered a beatdown to a few weeks ago refusing to let things lie. The NDC had been quietly at odds with them for the past three weeks, fending off thugs and protecting their various interests all over town. Hibari Kyoya had been all over the place beating people up and ensuring the various businesses that paid the NDC protection money were actually being protected from those upsetting the natural order. Nasake had meanwhile recruited a classmate with a talent for hacking to locate, identify and plot out the movements of the overly ambitious local boss who was planning the takeover of Namimori.

As she lay on the mattress staring into space and running over all the information Sakura-san had dug up for her from various supposedly secure locations –there was a reason she kept the NDC accounts on a computer without an internet connection– An idea bloomed in Nasake's mind. It was ruthless, cruel, unusual and barely acceptable by the unwritten rules the Yaks played by, but it _was_ permissible. Just. So long as she got Kyoya to go along with it. In fact, getting the violent teen to sanction her highly unorthodox plot would be the hardest part, as –if it worked– it would end the ongoing confrontation without any further violence on the part of the NDC. Of course it would also obligate the local boss attempting the invasion to commit suicide and quite possibly implicate the person further up the command structure who authorised the takeover attempt, but Nasake recognised that, although she would hold partial culpability for putting them in a culturally untenable situation, suicide –like murder– was the sole responsibility of the person committing it.

Helene Marshal would ordinarily never have considered this course of action for more than the time it took to dismiss it, but as Nasake she had been immersed in the murky world of the barely legal for almost every hour of the day for most of a month and wanted the situation over and done with. This would crush the attempted takeover without further harm to the people on the ground on both sides of the conflict and force the people in charge to take responsibility. It would probably give her nightmares afterwards, but that was the nature of the beast. Better to end it now before it spilled over into outfight gang warfare.

Groaning she rolled out of bed, Nasake staggered back down the hall to retrieve her Nami-phone. She needed to call Kyoya to set up a meeting to explain her idea to him and Tetsuya.

* * *

Ichii Naoto sat quietly in his office, contemplating his situation. He had been born the son of a well-placed Yakuza and, upon demonstrating loyalty, skill and intelligence, had been promoted within the ranks until he had been made the local boss for the area bordering Namimori. Wanting to prove his capability to his oyabun, Naoto had eventually turned his attention towards the town: there were a few minor local gumi but they all paid protection money to the newly established NDC. Ichii Naoto had nothing but scorn for men who allowed themselves to be cowed by an overly ambitious middle-schooler and had truly believed the takeover would be swift, painless and profitable.

Unfortunately he had been proved wrong on all fronts. The confrontation had been dragging on for almost a month, his men were being admitted to hospital on a daily basis and he was losing money in ways he hadn't realised existed. However he was committed now and to retreat would be to admit weakness and victory, however hard-won, would come eventually.

At least, that was what he had believed until this afternoon, when his three-year-old son, his own boss' four-year-old daughter and said boss' lieutenant's two-year-old son had all been collected from the kindergarten the local gumi members' wives used by an unknown third party. Naoto had a sketch of the third party in front of him: she was traditionally dressed in geta and yukata with her red-brown hair up in a style indicating she was a single woman of marriageable age and had pale blue eyes. The yukata however had been telling, patterned with clouds and birds in a manner that strongly suggested a connection with Hibari Kyoya, the leader of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee. A mere hour after the abduction had been discovered an impeccably formal and proper letter had been delivered to his boss from said Committee Leader explaining that the children were well and safe and would be returned as soon as the takeover attempt was terminated and all forces removed from Namimori, permanently. Included had been a picture of the three children sitting and eating together with the woman in the sketch.

Ichii Naoto had not received a letter but a traditionally wrapped parcel in a cloth with a sparrow superimposed on a cloud embroidered in one corner. In the parcel had been nothing save a piece of high-quality rice paper with his full name and rank written on it in red ink and a new and expensive tantō. The message implied was more than clear: while his supervisor would need to do no more than write a letter of apology, the return of his son would need to be bought in blood. His own blood.

Naoto knew enough about Hibari Kyoya to know that there was no way he could have come up with such a ruthlessly simple scheme; the teen tried to solve all his problems through the indiscriminate application of violence. The elegant effectiveness of this demand for capitulation suggested Hibari had as an advisor someone with a cunning mind and considerable diplomatic experience; someone the independent and vicious young man actually respected and listened to. That person was the one to fear: as he was now Hibari was just another thug, if a particularly gifted one. If however the boy internalised the lessons his advisor was teaching him he would become a truly dangerous player.

Sighing, the boss moved the gifts he had been sent to one side and laid out brush, ink and a pristine sheet of the highest quality paper he had. He had two letters to write before he wielded the new blade to atone for his failure in judgement: one apology to Hibari Kyoya and one letter of warning to his supervisor and whoever would be chosen as his successor. He had misjudged the situation in Namimori and would pay for it with his life; however he would do all he could to ensure no-one in the ninkyō dantai ever repeated the mistake.

* * *

Katayama Morito stood stiffly at the agreed meeting point with his underlings fanned out behind him. It was a meeting of three roads just outside Namimori, an old crossroads that the newer highways had caused to fall into disuse. Opposite him and gathered around the right-hand road was Hibari Kyoya, leader of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee, his first lieutenant Kusakabe Tetsuya and a dozen of his underlings standing back at a safe distance. Hibari had arrived, had Kusakabe accept the letter from Katayama and read it twice. Then the teen had pulled out his phone and made a short call. That had been ten minutes ago and the atmosphere between the two groups was getting tense.

A distant clatter caught the career yakuza's attention and he turned to look down the left-hand fork in the road: something was coming.

As the vehicle cleared the corner Katayama was surprised to see an old-fashioned farm cart pulled by an incongruously high-quality horse coming towards them. Being well-aware that a properly trained horse made an excellent crowd control tool, the lieutenant signalled his men to spread out away from the road. As the cart came closer Katayama recognised the woman driving the vehicle as the one who had taken his son and his bosses daughter and been with them in the photograph. Still traditionally attired and made-up in a manner reminiscent of geisha, even a better photograph would not help him identify her conclusively as too many potentially distinguishing features were obscured. The woman gently guided the vehicle to a stop, alighted from her seat and minced smoothly around the back of the covered cart. Katayama held his breath.

He almost didn't recognise the impeccably dressed little imperial princess who alighted as his boss' daughter; Umiko was usually to be seen running around in western frilly skirts. She seemed perfectly alright however, her happy smile and cheery babbling indicated she had no idea she had ever been kidnapped. Two equally traditionally dressed little boys in miniature hakama with toy swords fastened to their obi followed the imperial princess; his own son and the son of the recently late Ichii Naoto. Both were as calm and happy as his boss' little girl, so he allowed his subordinates to take charge of the children while he addressed the young woman who he now realised was the architect of the scheme.

"Thank-you for your care of our children, madam."

"You may call me Nasake, Katayama-san," the young lady said with impeccable formality. "I assure you that the children never left my care and that not once were they exposed to Hibari-dono or any of his men. Please accept their clothing as a gift, in recompense for the inconvenience you and your boss have suffered."

"You are too generous, Nasake-san," Katayama countered, inwardly admiring the authority and power this slender girl radiated so effortlessly. It was obvious to him that she was far more dangerous than Hibari, though he might match her given a decade of training and growth. What then was someone so obviously capable doing pandering to the whims of a thug like him?

Nasake smiled, seeming to catch the direction of his thoughts from his expression. "Family is more important than power, Katayama-san; I'm sure you understand."

Katayama Morito understood perfectly. This demure incarnation of near-limitless power had adopted Hibari Kyoya as her protégé and woe betide any man fool enough to challenge the status quo.

"Of course, Nasake-san; I wish you and your success in all future endeavours." He was surprised to realise he actually meant it.

* * *

Yakuza terminology taken from Wkikpedia, so it may not be accurate.

In the period of time covered in this chapter Tsuna has met Bianchi, been forced to attend summer school and met Haru, but none of that is at all relevant to Helene so it won't be mentioned. She refers to herself as Nasake throughout this chapter as that is the role she has spent most of her time filling: her actions are almost exclusively as Hibari's subordinate, rather than as her own self. She is also starting to think of herself as Nasake rather than Helene, which is telling.


	11. Madness

_There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness._ Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 – 1900).

* * *

Iemitsu Sawada laughed at a comment made by the representative of the Giegue Famiglia, made his excuses and wandered away towards the buffet table. Every few years the Vongola hosted a big do, inviting all their allies to come and mingle, talk business and promote good relationships. A lot of the Famiglia brought their heirs along so the next generation could get to know each-other and form alliances of their own. This meant that two of Timoteo's sons were here in addition to the old man himself and his Guardians. Iemitsu was in charge of security for the event as the Vongola External Advisor, so instead of catching up with old acquaintances he had to make the rounds and keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously.

There were a lot of people filling the ballroom and more loitering in the various small reception rooms off to the sides, some chatting, some eating and some dancing to the string quintet sawing away industriously in one corner of the ballroom. Iemitsu spotted A small knot of Trad 6 members, a scattering of Giglio Nero members watching over their young boss Aria as she danced with the Cavallone boss, a well-built blond man old enough to be her father.

Speaking of which, the Cavallone heir was supposed to be here tonight: Dino was seventeen now and just starting to make a name for himself. The boy's father was letting him sit in on contracts now and then and was rumoured to be extremely proud of his son's progress. Iemitsu snagged a glass of wine from a passing waiter and ambled across the room in search of the teen. Dino had raised a few eyebrows when he befriended Xanxus' gifted, temperamental and noisy second-in-command Squalo Superbi, the Second Sword Emperor, but the relationship had lasted and Dino was now recognised as having an in with the Varia and respected for it. After all, what better way to protect yourself from assassins than get on the good side of the people most likely to be hired to do the killing?

The head of the CEDEF spotted a flash of blond in the middle of the ballroom: Dino Cavallone was sweeping across the polished floor, a petite brunette in a green gown in his arms, moving perfectly to the music. It seemed the tales of the young Bucking Horse' clumsiness were just vicious rumours; or so the people watching were being encouraged to believe. Iemitsu however knew Reborn rather well and guessed that the blond teen's grace had more to do with the girl in his arms than the boy's own natural grace.

"He's making a good impression," Iemitsu commented to the smartly dressed toddler perched on a side table.

"Only because Helene is hanging off his arm," Reborn replied sourly.

"So that's the infamous Helene?" Iemitsu said lightly, allowing his gaze to be drawn back to the young woman cradled protectively in Dino's arms as he moved lightly and gracefully around the dance floor. "She certainly cleans up nicely, but isn't she a bit young for him?" The girl looked stunning in a slinky emerald green ballgown and her red-lit black hair fastened up on the back of her head, but the External Advisor knew she was only fifteen.

Reborn snorted. "My no-good student sees her as Family, like the sister he never had; he doesn't look at her that way, unfortunately. I'm more worried about Superbi."

Iemitsu blinked, then glanced around. The loud swordsman was halfway across the room from him and Reborn, wearing a smart shirt and tie under his Varia coat with his long silver hair hanging down his back to just past his shoulder blades. He was slouching against the wall and glaring at Dino and his dance partner as they moved around the room.

"He noticed Helene was actually a very attractive young woman a little over a year ago and has been acting slightly off ever since," Reborn went on quietly. "She is yet to concede even an inch in her views on the Mafia but I fear that Squalo may sway her where Dino and I have failed."

"Love does strange things to people, doesn't it?" Iemitsu agreed, eyeing the disgruntled swordsman. "I take it you're worried she'll back Superbi in his quest to get Xanxus back in Nono's good graces?"

"She had an exceptional mind," Reborn mused, "a dangerous temper and is utterly loyal to those she trusts, much like Superbi himself. She does not however trust me and likely never will; I have either broken her trust before ever meeting her or else her fear of my profession overrides any of my attempted overtures."

"She's afraid of you?" Iemitsu was surprised. Since Reborn had become an Arcobaleno most people had trouble remembering he was the world's most dangerous hitman, seemingly unable to look past the toddler façade.

"She does her utmost not to show it but she is very, very afraid of me," Reborn confirmed. "I am impressed by her instincts."

Across the room from them the string quintet finished the piece and started another. Dino lead Helene off the dance floor towards Squalo and the three of them engaged in conversation, Dino's hands waving in the air and Squalo's face shifting through a variety of different emotions. The girl had her back to them so it was impossible to tell what she thought of the conversation, though her hand remained lightly tucked in the crook of Dino's left elbow. At least, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking until she blushed, a delicate wave of pink circling the back of her neck.

* * *

Squalo was angry. It was hardly new for him; anger was a large part of what kept him going while his beloved boss was imprisoned. However this anger was born not from rage against the Vongola Nono or frustration at his own failures, but from confusion, denial and lust.

A little over a year ago he'd finally been allowed to take the odd mission again during the school holidays and had jumped at the chance. After returning from one such mission on a suffocatingly hot July afternoon he'd been searching the Varia grounds for Lussuria, had barged out onto the pool area and been pole-axed by the sight of Helene dozing on a recliner in a string bikini that showed off all the curves he hadn't even realised she had yet. Red in the face he had retreated as fast as he could and gone looking for his flamboyant team-mate in another, less confusing direction. The incident had however etched itself in his brain and Squalo had found himself noticing the way Helene's hips swayed as she walked, her modest yet growing bust and the way wisps of hair escaped from the traditional Japanese styles she preferred to trail over her neck and ears.

He'd done his best to ignore it –she had been fourteen and Dino would kill him– but it didn't go away. In fact, it got worse. Then the dreams started, which made him twitchy and cranky. He'd never, ever experienced anything even remotely like this before and it was driving him insane. It was even preventing him from concentrating on freeing Xanxus!

Then Dino had started having to attend parties and had asked Helene along as his plus one, which awoke a whole new array of emotions in Squalo's gut. No matter how many times he reminded himself that Dino saw Helene as his sister and no more, he couldn't quite crush the gnawing jealousy that had taken root underneath his stomach and whispered that Dino was no match for the Second Sword Emperor and it wouldn't take much to get rid of the oblivious blond who was always touching _his_ Helene.

Squalo wasn't stupid, so he didn't try to kill Dino. However he frequently caught himself competing with Dino for her attention, trying to be the one to offer her his arm when they went out and about together and even started offering to spar with her. Sparring was both a joy and a torture: Helene was very, very good with her naginata and able to fend him off for well over an hour when she was fresh. Training sessions ended with both of then hot, sweating and tired and left Squalo feeling uncomfortably horny. His control was never so tested as when he was facing her with his sword drawn, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as she grinned wildly at him and twirled her naginata. Sometimes he caught himself wondering why he hadn't just jumped her and hoped for the best; then he remembered she was Dino's best friend and her father was… not someone to cross.

Squalo had met Hugo Marshall, Vicount Haverhill only three times and on each occasion had found himself wondering how Dino had managed to get under the guy's skin: the man was terrifying in an understated, professional way that most hitmen would give a hand to achieve. The silver-haired swordsman had known on meeting Helene's father's eyes that here was someone who would stop at nothing to keep his family safe and had no fear of the consequences; Hugo Marshal would walk into Hell with his eyes open and a smile on his face for the people who mattered to him. Recognising that antagonising that kind of person had a high chance of being fatal no matter how capable a person was, Squalo had done his best to squash his increasingly impure feelings for the man's daughter, but with little success.

Then had come the massive Vongola event when all the Famiglia's allies were invited and Squalo found himself having to watch as Dino swept Helene across the dance floor. It made him want to kill something.

* * *

"Hey, Squalo!" the swordsman blinked. Dino wasn't dancing anymore, but was standing in front of him with Helene hanging off his arm, looking even more delicious than usual in an emerald green ballgown with a low neckline that exposed the tops of her shoulders. Tiny strands of hair had already escaped her elegant hairdo to caress her ears and the nape of her neck.

"You're easily distracted today," Dino commented.

"VOI! I'm not!" Squalo protested automatically. "I'm just bored!"

"Well, why don't you dance with Elena for a bit then?" Dino suggested brightly. "I'm kinda tired, but I know she isn't."

Squalo spluttered, unable to come up with a response. There was a glint in Dino eye that one rarely saw, the light that said 'yes, I know exactly what's going on and if you don't do something about it I won't be held responsible for the results'. That evil gleam had been showing up more and more often lately and the Varia swordsman refused to believe it had anything to do with Reborn; Helene got that look, too.

"Would you like to dance with Squalo, Elena?" Dino asked, turning slightly to look his little cousin in the eye. Squalo looked at her too, unable to tear himself away. Helene looked up to meet the swordsman's eyes, then dropped her indigo gaze and blushed, eyelashes forming lacy curves above her flushed cheekbones.

"I…"

Struck down by the thunderbolt revelation that he might not be the only one experiencing irrationally strong feelings, Squalo did not wait for her to say any more. Firmly taking her free hand in his he lead her out onto the dance floor, wrapped his other arm around her waist and stepped into the beat. He might be going mad, but going by Helene's dark, dilated pupils it seemed he would be in good company at the very least.

* * *

"Well, it seems your concerns will have to be addressed sooner rather than later," Iemitsu mused as Squalo spun Helene expertly across the ballroom, the silver-haired teenager's eyes never leaving those of his dance partner. The External Advisor was no stranger to young love and from the way Helene met the loud swordsman's eyes steadily and leant into his touch she was no less taken with him than he was with her. Reborn was right: this had the potential to be disastrous for the Vongola. However it all depended on Helene's own loyalties and strength of will and from what Iemitsu had seen of the girl, she was wilfulness personified and as coolly rational as any scientist. Whether or not she would be swayed by passion was yet to be seen.

* * *

Another flashback, this time through the eyes of Iemitsu. Like what you see? Then please review!


	12. Health

_A wise man should consider that health is the greatest of human blessings, and lean how by his own thought to derive benefit from his illnesses._ Hippocrates (460 BC – 377 BC).

* * *

The first week of a term was always hectic, what with people being out of practice at getting up on time and having had several weeks to forget how important order was to the head of the Disciplinary Committee. Autumn term was not quite as bad as spring term, but bad enough what with the Fall Quarter Committees coming up. Nasake also had to enrol Lambo in Namimori Kindergarten and make sure the little boy understood that he was banned from taking weapons to school. Well, most weapons: she let him have three grenades on the condition that he did not use them against his teachers or his peers, explaining that if anybody knew about them she'd have to confiscate them. Nasake knew very well how naked being unarmed felt once you were accustomed to carrying weaponry around; her kaiken had barely left her side since her mother's death had placed it in her hands and the tessen Hibari had gifted her with on her last birthday were always on her person as well. While she could generally get away with carrying one of them around in her hand, the other was generally to be found hidden up one of her sleeves while the kaiken lived tucked in the back of the waistband of her uniform trousers. True, the girls' uniform technically required she wear a skirt, but she had a medical dispensation to wear trousers and the Disciplinary Committee uniform was male only, so she got away with it quite handily. Kyoya had never pried into why she kept herself covered from collarbones to wrist to ankle regardless of the season but she knew he was curious. However the violent teen was wary enough of incurring debt to let the matter lie, preferring not to know if the alternative meant risking owing something.

Another matter to be faced had been her medical check-up. Her last one had been back in March, when she had been deemed to be doing well enough for a six-month respite rather than the usual three. Dr. Shamal was an unrepentant pervert and far too touchy-feely for her comfort, but he knew his stuff. The exercises he had given her had restored her mobility almost to her pre-injury state and she had hopes that her right leg had recovered enough to be able to abandon the brace that for the past two and a half years had supported her knee. She had been through surgery four times in order to regain what mobility she had on that knee and it was only due to Lussuria's stubborn insistence on using his Sun Flames to help the muscle tissue regenerate and the skill of the surgeons who had done the work that she could walk unassisted. That she could run, dance and fight with her naginata without her speed or balance suffering was a testament to how well she had been cared for; there had been a time when she had feared she would never be able to do more than limp while leaning on a cane for the rest of her life.

Of course the medical check-up had been a trial in itself, but she had managed.

* * *

Dr. Shamal had arrived on Helene's front porch with a spring in his step and cheerfully rang the bell, humming happily. The gorgeous teen was his only long-term patient, indeed the only long-term patient he'd ever had, and he really enjoyed treating her. A good part of this enjoyment was derived from the fact that, as he was treating her for physical injuries, she would strip off for him so he could see how much she had improved since last time and he needed to touch her to get a feel for how much more improvement was possible and what damage lingered. The Baronetess Marshal was a lovely creature, all lithe and limber with attractively proportional curves; it was a shame she was as frigid as an Antarctic winter but you couldn't win all of them.

Shamal knew the chilly façade she put on was a deliberate reaction to his out forward nature and acknowledged ruefully that it was highly effective: it was terribly off-putting to have the girl you were trying to flirt with stare at you like you were speaking a foreign language and the total lack of reaction when he put his hands on her was in many ways more unpleasant than the violent reactions he usually got. Elegant, brilliant, magnificent Helene was as chilly as an iceberg with similarly hidden depths lurking dangerously beneath the surface. Powerful enough in her own right that the Vongola Nono had agreed to bargain with her as an equal, Shamal knew that if he ever crossed the line with her she could kill him more quickly than he could defend himself and would hesitate only due to what she felt she owed him. Thus the doctor flirted outrageously with her but was careful not to let his hands wander too much; he'd seen her kill a man holding her hostage purely on reflex when he groped her, the unfortunate gunman dead before he hit the ground. He did not want to end up like _that_; no matter how sorry she was afterwards he would still be dead.

When the front door was opened the doctor bounced inside, greeting the blank-faced girl with a cheery smile.

"Good morning, Helene-chan! How are you? Well I hope?"

"Please call me Setsume, Shamal-hakase; that is the name I am living under currently," the cool teen requested tiredly, making a point of the fact that it was not the first time she had made this request.

"But it such an ugly name for such a lovely young lady! I cannot!" Shamal protested again, grinning inwardly.

"Then call me Nasake; most people do now," she suggested. The doctor paused, considering. On the one hand it was not as pretty a name as her real one. On the other, it was far nicer that Setsume, which was written 'Slaughter-Woman' in kanji.

"Nasake-chan," Shamal agreed. "Now let's adjourn to your little dojo so I can see how much you've improved."

She really had improved, he was pleased to see as she obligingly went through an extensive set of gymnastic exercises in a skimpy pair of bicycle shorts and a sports bra. The muscles around her knee were almost back to full strength, nothing was catching or pinching under her skin and the numerous scars that remained were now purely cosmetic. After a careful, thorough examination of her right knee where he poked and prodded everything to double-check there were no latent issues hiding out of sight Shamal confiscated her knee brace and pronounced her recovered. He also promised to send her a list of Japan's most capable cosmetic surgeons; women were precious treasures and for all her beauty Helene would be even more stunning without the long, briar-like white scars twining around her body from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers and the bottoms of her feet. Thankfully the ones on her face and hands were thinner and usually hidden –he knew full well that he was one of only four people who had seen the full extent of the damage she had suffered during the Carnival Massacre– but Dr. Shamal felt again, as he did after every visit, the urge to hunt down the man responsible for the damage done to such a beautiful woman and make him suffer horribly before he died. Such criminal damage, such iconoclasty, was an affront to everything Trident Shamal held dear.

As Helene was getting dressed again the doctor received a call from Reborn and he had to excuse himself; apparently Reborn's latest student had caught Skullitis from overexposure to Dying Will Bullets. His patient's respectful "Thank-you, Shamal-hakase" followed him out of the front door, giving him an extra spring in his step. Yes, cute Helene-chan really was his favourite patient.

* * *

The suffix '-hakase' means 'doctor' as in a person with a doctorate rather than just a medical doctor.


	13. Violence

_It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence._ Mahatma Gandhi (1869 – 1948).

* * *

The fall quarter committee room assignments always made Hibari Kyoya irritable, as he had to talk to irritating herbivores in person rather than allowing his Nasake to listen to their irritating bleating and translate it into a more useful form. However, as Nasake was the head of the Study Club in addition to being Secretary of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee and it was against the rules for one person to represent two different committees, Kyoya put up with it with only a slight increase in applied violence. After all, it was only one day and she always came over to assist after the Study Club was organised to her satisfaction.

Kyoya had an abiding appreciation for the discipline and quiet orderliness his Nasake maintained within the Study Club, an orderliness that persisted even as it grew from a small group that tutored Disciplinary Committee members in areas they were having problems with into a network that offered guided study to anyone in the school who was having difficulty in classes. There was even a subsidy system for those unable to pay the admittance fees. The Study Club improved discipline, reduced poor performance and encouraged students to attend lessons and not cause trouble, all of which made it much easier for the NDC to enforce order both within the school and around Namimori.

This year Hibari had leaned on a few people and gained the usage of the school reception room as the assigned area for the NDC. It didn't mean much really; after all he and Nasake both had private offices like the teachers did. However it sent a strong message to all the students regarding the power and presence of the Committee which, considering the summer they'd just had, was something Kyoya felt was very much needed. It also improved morale, something he'd come to recognise was important. His subordinates did in fact do better when they were assured of the power of the NDC and that was something that was worth the minimal effort required to maintain it.

However, room assignment day meant that, instead of being able to wander the school grounds during lunch keeping an eye on rule-breakers, he had to hang around in his assigned room until the adult whose job it was to formalise the room selections arrived and ensured everything was in order. As the teacher who did this invariably started in the larger basement rooms and worked their way up, it would be some time before he would be able to leave. On the other hand, as the Study Club was invariably sited in the basement due to its ever-growing size, his Nasake would be keeping him company for much of that time. All Kyoya had to do was exercise a little patience.

Of course, he reminded himself with an internal smile as a pair of foolish herbivores entered the room with an eye to claiming it for themselves, that didn't mean he couldn't take out his irritation on interlopers…

* * *

Tsuna groaned, carefully levering himself off the floor of the reception room as slowly as possible to ensure he didn't damage himself any further. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened: He'd been eating lunch on the roof with Gokudera and Yamamoto when Reborn had showed up in a ridiculous chestnut costume and suggested they set up a Family hideout in the school, specifically in the reception room. His pint-sized tutor had made a good argument and his friends had been all for it, so Tsuna had trailed behind them. By the time they reached the reception room the reluctant Vongola heir had been a little more agreeable to the situation, not least because he'd never actually seen the room before. He'd just slipped in past Yamamoto and Gokudera and had been looking around when a violent blow to the right side of his face sent him flying and he briefly blacked out.

Looking around, Tsuna was horrified to see both his taller, stronger friends laid out on the floor near him, Gokudera with several discarded sticks of dynamite lying near him. That indicated the silver-haired teen had been taken out before getting a chance to counter-attack, making Tsuna even more frightened, but that fear bloomed into fully-fledged terror as he noticed Hibari Kyoya standing over by the door, tonfa out in each hand, staring at him like he didn't particularly care about him. He did not attack though, which Tsuna was thankful for.

"They won't wake up. I made sure of that," the older teen said flatly.

Tsuna couldn't quite believe that Hibari-sempai had defeated Gokudera and Yamamoto all by himself, let alone done it so quickly that Gokudera hadn't even managed to throw one stick of dynamite at him.

"Sit down," the older teen added, eyes glinting in a distinctly predatory fashion. "I'll call for an ambulance for them."

"Hibari-dono?" an uncomfortably familiar voice called out from the doorway, followed by a sigh. Tsuna turned to watch Nasake-sempai step into the room, a stack of papers in her arms.

"What are you doing here, Inu-kubō?" the girl asked with a sigh as she set the papers on the coffee table next to the leather sofa and stepped over Gokudera as if he was nothing more than an inconvenience and helped Tsuna to his feet. "You are the last person I expected to find challenging Hibari-dono for his choice in committee rooms."

"I wasn't challenging anything, honest!" Tsuna babbled frantically as out of the corner of his eye he noticed Reborn coming into view outside the window, riding on a window-cleaner's lift.

"Well you are still conscious at least," Nasake-sempai sighed, "and Hibari-dono is calling an ambulance for your friends. Perhaps-"

Tsuna did not get to hear his sempai's suggestion, as at that moment Reborn pointed his gun at him and fired. However in the instant between his tutor pulling the trigger and the Dying Will Bullet impacting with his forehead Tsuna was shoved aside and something heavy landed on him, staggering him. Steadying himself, the nervous teen looked down in horror at the limp body of the Secretary of the Disciplinary Committee flopping in his arms.

"Nasake?"

Tsuna looked up to see the Leader of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee staring at the bullet hole between Nasake's eyes, his face pale. The older teen slowly turned to look at Reborn, hands clenching around his tonfas. His next word was spat out through gritted teeth and disturbingly, vehemently sincere:

"_Kamikorosu._"

Then Tsuna was knocked flying by a shockwave that blew out the reception room windows and blinded him with cold, cold white fire.

* * *

As Tsuna returned to his senses for the second time in less than five minutes he tried to move, only to realise he couldn't. His body was trapped, immobilised and floating in something cold, white and oddly dense, as if the air had turned to treacle. He could breathe, just, but that was it. Blinking at the ripples that moved slowly through the whiteness that held him, the teen wondered what was going on. Then the whiteness retreated like the tide and Tsuna landed on his behind with a bump, staring at the source of what he now recognised as being Dying Will Flames.

It was Nasake-sempai. But instead of the Flames burning orange or yellow on her forehead at the point where the bullet had impacted like they had on everyone else Tsuna had seen, Nasake-sempai's Flames were bluish white and rippled across her entire body and into the surrounding air. The mostly-naked girl's body was obscured by the harsh brightness of the Dying Will Flames but her eyes burned like lit magnesium as she glared at Reborn.

"_**You are not a student or a teacher, Reborn-san," **_the Secretary of the Disciplinary Committee said, voice filled with the sucking chill of the void between stars and the unnatural conviction that resulted from being shot with a Dying Will Bullet. _**"Your presence on school grounds during regular hours is against the rules."**_

Nasake-semapi was suddenly standing by the blown-out windows, her white Flames wrapping around the tiny hitman and immobilising him. _**"I will evict you from school grounds with my Dying Will!"**_

Tsuna stared, gobsmacked, at the white bubble containing his home tutor as it soared over the school building and past the fence that separated Namimori Middle from the road. He had never, ever seen anyone catch Reborn by surprise; that Nasake-sempai had managed it with so little apparent effort made the whole scenario seem deeply surreal. Then the older girl's knees buckled and her Flames faded, leaving her leaning heavily on Hibari-sempai in nothing but her underwear.

Recognising that this was a very good moment to run away and noticing his friends recovering from their bout of Hibari-induced unconsciousness, Tsuna dragged them away from the reception room as quickly and quietly as he could. It was only once they were safe behind the baseball court that Tsuna allowed himself to consider the significance of the scars wrapped around his semapi's right leg and torso, trailing from her calf all the way up to her shoulders and down her opposite arm almost to the elbow. At least now he knew why she wore long sleeves all year round and why the teachers never commented on her wearing the boys' uniform rather than the girls'.

* * *

Kyoya had been mildly amused by the presence of the herbivores in the reception room, but the baby who had shot his Nasake had severely irritated him. Amazingly she had not died, but the infant had forced _his_ Nasake to walk around in her underwear, which was an insult to her that simply could not stand. First however Kyoya had something more important to discover: who was responsible for those scars and whether he could bite them to death.

"Who gave you those scars?" he asked, handing his secretary her shirt.

Nasake blinked, hand rising towards her face before she noticed where the NDC Leader was looking and glanced down at her leg. Kyoya made a note of that gesture; it meant something.

"An assassin," she said quietly as she did up the buttons and hid the tessen he'd given her for her last birthday in the sheaths fastened to her forearms. "He attacked a festival in order to take out his target and caused an explosion. I was caught at the edge of the blast."

"Those are arc burns," Kyoya pointed out quietly. His Nasake hadn't lied to him, but she was hiding something.

"Yes," she agreed tranquilly, accepting her trousers from him. The lack of modesty was puzzling as well, but Kyoya lacked the patience to consider the reason behind something so trivial.

"Is that your only scar?" It was the right question: she flinched ever so slightly. "Where are the others?"

"Hidden," Nasake replied shortly, turning her back to him as she put on her socks. Kyoya nodded, taking note of the faint shimmer of white fire that danced over her skin for a moment, reminiscent of the fierce incandescence that had enveloped her after the bullet hit her. It seemed the white fire was something innate, which meant the bullet had simply removed her from her clothing. All the more reason to bite that baby to death.

"What about the white flames?" he asked, stepping back as she got to her feet and put on her shoes. Nasake looked him in the eye:

"I am not permitted to discuss it," she said simply. "If you find out on your own though I will not have to keep it or my other scars a secret from you."

The head prefect nodded and let her go and tidy up the papers that had been scattered across the room when she was shot. He had learnt enough, and he was certain he'd find out the rest sooner or later. The baby definitely knew what those flames were and the rumours about Sawada running around in his underwear sometimes mentioned his head had been on fire at the time as well.

And once he knew, nothing would stop him from biting to death the herbivores that had harmed his Nasake.

* * *

'Kamikorosu' means 'I will bite you to death'. Hibari, being a bit of a sociopath and only fifteen, has no concept of romance at all. An outside observer could tell you that he and Helene have a strong professinoal relationship and a growing friendship, but his possessiveness is just part of his personality.

My take on the Dying Will Bullet is that it _forces_ you to carry out your Dying Will and artificially manifests a person's inner Flames to power that Dying Will. Nasake/Helene has a LOT of inner Flames.


	14. Faith

_Sometimes life is going to hit you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith._ Steve Jobs (1955 – 2011).

* * *

As Dino's birthday was generally within a week or two of Carnevale, the Cavallone heir would annually beg, bribe or blackmail his father into letting him attend one of the parades, markets or masquerades that were traditionally held in every town and village in Italy. Dino never asked for too much, always picking a town under Vongola or Cavallone protection, so his request was humoured and he was permitted a day off from his gruelling training with Reborn, his teachers were sent a note informing them of his absence and the young heir would spend the whole day with his 'cuginetta Elena', wandering around a gorgeous town decked out for celebration and generally having fun. This year Elena's parents had come along as well, bringing her little brother Titus with them. Dino liked 'Tito', as he called the boy, seeing in the eleven-year-old a lot of how he himself had been as a child. As a result of this fondness –which was compounded by the little boy's utter adorableness– this year Dino had escorted both Elena and Tito around, trying his hand at various games, buying food from street vendors and applauding acrobats, magicians and other street performers in parks and little squares.

The Cavallone heir loved Carnevale; he always had. That it fell near his birthday gave him a perfect excuse to attend and meant that he was invariably humoured by his father, who seemed to enjoy the various schemes and ploys Dino had cooked up over the years. In return Dino was always well behaved for his actual birthday party, which was always a large affair with other mafia kids his age. Elena had never attended the party –her father had explained to Dino when the blond was just thirteen that he did not want his daughter exposed to members of the Mafia in such an unstructured environment– but always showed up at his house after breakfast to give him a present. Dino was still amazed and humbled that Vicount Marshall had allowed his friendship with Elena to continue and that he had agreed to let her go with Dino to that first Carnevale celebration when she was just twelve. Sensible of the responsibility of being entrusted with his little cousin's wellbeing for the day, the Cavallone heir had been terribly nervous and horribly clumsy all day, but it had all paid off when he handed Elena back to her father in the evening, tired but without a scratch on her. The man's approving smile had been his best birthday present that year.

However the only thing going through Dino's head as he ran for his life through the panicking crowd, Tito clutched to his chest with one arm and dragging Elena along behind him, was _Dear God, let none of us die!_

Then Elena shoved him violently forward and screamed. Dino lost his balance, staggered a few steps and tumbled to the ground, twisting so as not to crush the terrified child in his arms. Looking back, he was horrified to see Elena pinned to the ground by some kind of metal spike, swathed in green lightning and writhing in agony, still shrieking . He did not however have time to do anything as the green arcs tore through her clothes and skin then expanded outwards.

Dino screamed at the burning pain that hit his leg and back and screwed up his eyes as the ground shook, the blast of an explosion filling his ears and shaking his bones. Then the whole world went quiet, white, still and blessedly, blissfully cold.

* * *

When Dino came to the world was still quiet and still, but less white and cold. The air around him resisted movement and was full of white ripples, like he was underwater. Dino however knew better: as part of his training Reborn had made him fight other Dying Will Flame users and recognised that the cocoon protecting him and Tito was made of Rain Flames, the Tranquillity aspect protecting them both from harm. The colour however was an anomaly, as was the cold, so he glanced around, trying to get his bearings.

Looking down at the unconscious child in his arms, Dino winced at the frost-covered arc burns twined around Tito's arms from elbow to fingertip: no wonder he hadn't woken up yet. The frost had clearly numbed the pain, otherwise the little boy would be awake and still screaming; Dino had never seen Rain Flames used that way before, hadn't even considered it might be possible.

Slowly pushing himself up onto one elbow Dino looked over himself –he too had frosted-over arc burns up his legs and could feel a long numb line crossing his back– then around. He was in a clear sphere surrounded by what looked like a blizzard, white flurries whirling around the bubble in confusing patterns. Pushing himself further up, Dino finally saw Elena and gasped, horror and amazement choking off his voice.

She was half-floating just above the ground, held in place by what he now realised was an umbrella that had impaled her right knee, sinking deep into the road beneath as if it was butter. Her clothes were shredded and her body was covered in second-degree arc burns, all of which were covered by a thick layer of frost. They coiled around her legs and torso, wrapped around her arms and branched into thinner lines that crisscrossed her hands and slashed across her face and up past her hairline. It was her eyes however that held Dino's attention: they were half-lidded and blazing, blinding white. The Flames that had protected him from what he now realised had been certain death belonged to his little cousin. His Elena had pushed him out of the way of that umbrella then shielded him from the blast. He'd nearly died.

Dino took deep breaths and firmly pushed away the budding hysteria. This wasn't supposed to have happened! He was supposed to protect Elena, not the other way around! This was all his fault! If only he had never involved Elena in the mafia–

His mobile phone rang. The Cavallone heir fumbled for it against the resistance of the Tranquillity around him and raised it to his ear:

"Pronto?"

"Dino! Grazie a Dio!" came the strained voice of Romario in his ear. "Are you well? Where are you?"

"I'm in a bubble of white Dying Will Flames with a strong Tranquillity factor, surrounded by what looks like snow," Dino said, concentrating on the procedure that had been ingrained in him at an early age. "I have a few electric arc burns but am otherwise unharmed. Tito and Elena are in here as well: both are more badly injured than I am, unconscious and will definitely need an ambulance. At least, I think Elena is unconscious," he added uncertainly.

"Why the uncertainty?" Romario asked, the sound of shouting and moaning in the background.

"She is the one who conjured the bubble protecting us," Dino explained. "She saved our lives; without her I would most certainly be dead. And she is very badly injured." He paused. "We were hit by green lightning; it was definitely someone's Dying Will Flames. Who was it trying to kill us?"

"So far as I am aware, an assassin was carrying out a hit in the square and miscalculated the collateral damage," Romario said grimly. "There are small fires everywhere, a great many people have been killed or injured and every Mafioso within fifty kilometres has been called in to help." There was a pause on the line. "However people are talking about a cold blast that put out a lot of fires before they could spread and it is actually snowing a bit despite there not being a cloud in the sky. I can see where you are now; at least I assume you are inside the miniature snow hurricane?"

Dino chuckled weakly. "Probably," he admitted. "I'll try and get Elena to take the barrier down now we're safe." Putting the phone down carefully on the ground nearby, the nineteen-year-old slowly pushed himself to his feet and winced at how it made his back ache. He definitely had a burn there from the unpleasant pulling sensation and tingling numbness he could feel. Forcing himself over to his seventeen-year-old best friend he knelt in front of her.

"Elena?" he murmured gently, fingers of his left hand twining with hers in a habitual gesture as he stroked her face with his other hand. "We're safe now Elena. Tito's safe." He repeated himself in Japanese, then in English before reverting to Italian. "You can take the barrier down; Tito needs to go to hospital."

That got a response: Elena's eyelids flickered and her eyes opened fully even as they faded from blinding white to piercing ice-blue, a sharp contrast to her usual soft indigo irises. More interestingly, her iced-over wounds faded from sight.

"Safe?" she whispered, blinking at him.

"I promise," Dino said firmly. "You can let go; I'll look after us now." Her debilitating burns were still there; he could feel the frosted second-degree burns under his fingers. She just _looked_ unharmed.

With a sigh his little cousin slumped forwards to rest her head against his chest as the snow around the bubble cleared to reveal at least a dozen extremely worried members of the Cavallone Famiglia. As the Tranquillity bubble shrunk back into Elena's skin Dino felt her sobbing silently against his chest and carefully wrapped his arms around her. From here he could now see the broken bodies of less fortunate people splayed around them, clearly blasted back by the Flames. Some were burnt; others were frozen solid. His precious Elena had likely killed some of them even as she saved his life and that of her brother.

Feeling tears well up in his own eyes Dino swore to himself that he would do absolutely everything in his power to help his beloved cousin through this.

* * *

The Carnevale Massacre. I bet by readers can guess whose fault that was...


	15. Immortality

_If all else fails, immortality can always be assured by spectacular error._ John Kenneth Galbraith (1908 – 2006).

* * *

Lussuria carefully put down the half-carbonised body he had been helping a member of the CEDEF to move away from the mess of what was already being called the Carnevale Massacre, brushed off his gloved hands on his coat and fished his top-of-the-line cell phone out of his pocket. The number wasn't one he recognised, which was highly unusual: he didn't give out this number to anyone other than close friends.

"Pronto?"

"Is Signor Lussuria there?" asked a rather harried male voice.

"Speaking," the Varia member said curtly. "How did you get this number?"

"Forgive me, sir, but your details were given as the emergency contact for Signorina Elena Marshal," the man on the other end said quickly. "As she is a minor we need you to approve her treatment."

Lussuria tensed. He was indeed Helene's emergency medical contact, but only if neither of her parents could be reached. Viscount Marshal had granted him the privilege of watching over his only daughter shortly after Squalo started dating her and had not retracted said honour after the two broke up. That neither the Vicount nor his wife could be reached was ominous, especially when they knew Helene had been attending the celebrations here and news of the incident had already been broadcast on national television.

"Which hospital?" the Muay Thai specialist barked. The name the man gave was a private institution favoured by the wealthy and privileged due to the discretion offered, which suggested she had been taken there by someone who knew who she was; probably Dino or one of his men, considering Carnevale was the Cavallone's heir's favoured birthday treat.

"I'll be there as fast as I can," Lussuria assured the man on the phone before hanging up, hurrying over to the row of motorbikes that some of the lower ranking Family members had arrived on. Picking a medium-sized one with a large engine Lussuria hotwired it, hopped onto the saddle and sped off, slaloming between cars, bystanders and other obstacles as fast as possible in the direction of the hospital in question. Helene was a joy to be around and that the doctors needed permission to treat her suggested the injuries were severe. He had few enough friends as it was and didn't need to lose any more, especially not the only one willing to go shopping with him!

* * *

Squalo hurried through the Varia mansion early in the morning, headed towards the wet, meaty sound of violence. Usually it was Belphegor who got bored and took pot shots at the underlings, but the Varia soldier running in the opposite direction had informed him –before continuing to flee– that Lussuria was doing his level best to cripple Levi and anyone who got in the way before breakfast. Considering how rare it was for Lussuria to physically lash out in anger and that the severity of the ensuring violence was inversely proportional to the frequency of said outbursts, Squalo was just praying he got there in time to hear Levi's side of the story before the Lightning user expired.

The swordsman paused on the threshold of the marble hall, taking in the scene. Levi was curled up over by the wall, attempting to protect his vitals and doing rather badly if the blood splattered across the marble was any indication. Lussuria stood over him, coat nowhere in sight and face twisted in rage as he savagely kicked the nineteen-year-old in the ribs.

"VOOI! What happened?" Squalo asked, slightly intimidated by the sheer fury the usually affable assassin was displaying.

"This, this Dummkopf, дурак, bakayarō, cretino, this _utter __moron_ attempted to assassinate someone in the middle of a crowd with his 'Levi Volta' attack," Lussuria hissed through gritted teeth, apparently unable to decide on a language that could by itself fully express the depth and breadth of his victim's idiocy. "Not just any old crowd, either, but one which included _the Cavallone heir_. On Carnevale, in the middle of a bunch of stalls, most of which were either serving deep fried food or had electrical generators powering them."

Squalo's eyes widened. He'd been in Rome when the Carnevale Massacre hit the news the previous evening and had dragged a local pilot out of bed to fly him home immediately. That Levi was responsible for such an unmitigated disaster… well, no wonder Lussuria was angry. But that didn't explain why he was quite this angry.

"Is Dino alright?" the silver-haired swordsman asked urgently.

"Dino's mostly uninjured," Lussuria growled. "His father however is in intensive care and unlikely to see the end of the week, even with Sun Flame assisted healing."

Oh dear. THat would be very, very bad for the Vongola; it might even compromise the generations-old peace between the families.

"The body count so far is twelve children under the age of eleven, six teens and eleven adults, only half of whom have been conclusively identified so far," Lussuria continued, his voice taking on a terribly, ominously deliberate rhythm. "as I was helping the CEDEF move the bodies I got a call from the hospital, wanting me to authorise Helene's treatment."

"Helene?" Squalo repeated, voice rising. He and Helene had broken up due to the total incompatibility of their personal goals, not due to lack of chemistry or mutual caring. He still loved her dearly but recognised that she was no more interested in reviving Xanxus than he was in her inheritance and familial duties. She could no more abandon her calling than he could his, so they had agreed to separate before they ripped each-other apart. They were still close friends though and he had every intention of ensuring her future boyfriends were good enough for her. Dino was far too easygoing and her father Hugo didn't seem to think being able to physically defend yourself was a necessary characteristic for a prospective suitor.

"VOOI! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HELENE?" The Second Sword Emperor roared, striding across the room and dragging Levi up by his collar. The dark-skinned man just whimpered, so Squalo dropped him and turned on Lussuria.

"Helene's parents were killed in the blast," Lussuria bit out, "so I was called to the hospital to determine her treatment and that of her brother. She has second degree electrical arc and flash burns on roughly twenty percent of her body. This is considered major damage and she will be in the burns unit for at least a month." The usually affable man glared down at the twitching form of his Varia team-mate. "If she hadn't though some miracle activated Dying Will Flames she, Titus and Dino would all have died in the second blast: one of this idiot's parabolas impaled her through the knee."

Squalo went white. Xanxus was the focus of his obsession and devotion but Dino and Helene were his friends. To have Levi almost kill them both through sheer stupidity…

He kicked the crumpled body on the floor, his boot catching Levi in the spleen. "If she dies, you die," he growled, feeling cheated in that the slightly older man was already mostly broken.

"And I'll help," came a high, childish voice from behind them. Squalo turned to see Belphegor leaning inside a doorway, knives flipping between his fingers, smile ominously absent. "Helene is a lady of quality after all," Prince the Ripper added lightly, "and quality is rare enough without commoners carelessly besmirching it." The thirteen-year-old killer paused. "Her brother will be Viscount Marshal now their father is dead; is he injured?"

Lussuria blinked. "He has flash burns around both arms from fingertip to elbow, but he is not in mortal danger. Danger of losing his dexterity, perhaps; I authorised them to operate on his hands to maximise his chances of recovery."

Bel nodded, smile resurfacing. "Good; chasing him makes interesting target practice."

Squalo hadn't even realised Bel knew Helene's little brother. Knew Helene yes; his ex-girlfriend and the bloodthirsty young prince had managed to tolerate each-other once the apathetic boy had learnt of her noble lineage. For Helene to introduce Bel to her precious baby brother… he wasn't sure what that meant. Hopefully he'd get a chance to find out.

"Can we see her?" he demanded.

Lussuria frowned. "She passed out in the ambulance and hasn't been conscious since; I didn't come home until she was out of surgery." Which explained why the Muay Thai user hadn't started whaling on Levi until the middle of the morning _after_ the Massacre. "I got the doctors to promise to call me when she wakes up and there are Cavallone everywhere at the hospital. Dino swears she saved his life, so they will protect her until then." Lussuria sagged, the anger abruptly leaving him. "I am going to shower and go to bed. Wake me if the world is ending, but not otherwise." The oldest Varia member in residence then promptly stalked off, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. There was a short silence, broken only by Levi's pained wheezing.

"Bel, help me get the idiot to the infirmary," Squalo ordered. "I don't want him dying until I decide it's time."

"I'd be delighted," Bel said affably, smile widening as he stepped forwards.

* * *

Levi suffers the consequences of his actions. Well, the beginning of consequences anyway.


	16. Acquaintence

_If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances though life, he will soon find himself alone. A man should keep his friendships in constant repair._ Samuel Johnson (1709 – 1784).

* * *

Gokudera Hayato stared at the small white cardboard box his classmate had just put in front of him with the alert wariness he generally reserved for his sister Bianchi's cooking. The box did not turn putrid purple or start emitting toxic fumes, but that was no excuse for complacency. The Smokin' Bomb shifted his attention from the box to Fukurōsu Eiiko, who was standing in front of Gokudera's desk with a slightly amused expression on his face.

"Run that by me again," the silver-haired teen demanded.

Eiiko sighed. "Is it really that hard to believe?" he inquired, dry humour filling his words. "I heard from Ane-ue that today was your birthday and thought you would like it acknowledged. Hence," he waved a hand at the box, which had a sticker on it proclaiming it to be from the Namimori patisserie, "cake."

Hayato stared at the box again. He hadn't been given a birthday present –let alone a cake– since running away from home aged eight, half a lifetime ago. That this classmate he'd never had more than casual conversation with had not only realised it was his birthday but got him a cake…

"Why?" Hayato had meant it to come out a bit more belligerent, but his voice almost cracked halfway through the demand.

Eiiko glanced around the classroom and their growing audience and switched to Italian, much to the silver-haired bomber's shock. "Because birthdays are for celebrating. Because there is nothing as lonely as having your birthday come and go without as much as an acknowledgement. Because my sister thinks you are good for Tsuna-kun even though she grumbles about you smoking in school. Because you are the only other person in class who both has a brain and actually uses it. Because I'd like us to be friends. Because you are one of the bravest people I know and I admire you for it, and because you are only fifteen once. So best wishes on your birthday, Hayato-kun."

Hayato's jaw dropped. "Grazie," he responded automatically, gaping at the teen standing in front of him and really looking at the other boy for the first time.

Fukurōsu Eiiko was short, even shorter than Jūdaime with dark blond hair in loose, messy curls and large, long-lashed eyes in an unusually dark shade of green. His face was fairly round with light golden skin and a strong, straight nose, a mark of his mixed Japanese and European heritage. Eiiko was usually rather self-effacing, fading into the background and letting others take the lead, but he had a good mind and wasn't afraid to use it. He was similarly upfront in his dealings with others, never lying, rarely procrastinating and had a truly wicked sense of humour and a fondness for sarcastic cynicism that was generally more amusing to bystanders than victims. He also wore dress gloves all the time, which was odd, but no more so than his sister's preference for wearing the boys' uniform. All in all he was the kind of person Hayato would like to be friends with, but his relation to Nasake-semapi had ensured the part-Italian kept his distance. Whoever Fukurōsu Setsume really was, she had Vongola connections and that made Smokin' Bomb Hayato extremely suspicious. That Eiiko was clearly fluent in Italian didn't help.

"Did your sister put you up to this?" he asked cautiously, still in Italian.

Eiiko raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. "I hate to burst your bubble, Hayato-kun, but Ane-ue has more important things to do with her time than ponder your mental wellbeing. She only cared when your birthday was so she could ensure you would take all your proficiency tests as soon as it was legal."

"Gomen," Hayato muttered, embarrassed.

"Think nothing of it, Paranoia-san," Eiiko said snarkily in Japanese. "Enjoy your day." With that the younger boy went over to his own desk and sat down as if nothing had happened at all. Hayato looked around and scowled at the people who had been watching them until they went back to whatever they had been doing before, then pulled the cardboard box closer and gingerly opened it.

Inside was a cupcake with 'Auguri' written in green on the icing in a curve across the top, over a picture of a lit stick of dynamite done in red. Sniffing, Hayato determined the cake was plain vanilla sponge with plain icing on top; nothing special really. However he carefully closed the box and slid it into his school bag for later: cake was cake after all.

He resolutely ignored the happy bubbly feeling in his chest at getting a personalised present and the uncomfortable knawing feeling that started when Jūdaime dashed into the classroom without saying a word to him. It wasn't like he'd told his boss when his birthday was.

* * *

On arriving home after a full day in which the only person to acknowledge his birthday was a classmate he'd barely spoken to more than once and said classmate's older sister –who was also his boss– who had patted him on the shoulder with a distracted 'best wishes' as he left the building, Hayato sat down at his small dining table and set the cupcake in front of him. It was slightly squashed after a day in his bag, but still in one piece with both writing and picture intact. Cutting it in two, he shoved half in his mouth and enjoyed the sweetness and airy texture. The people who had remembered his birthday might not have been whom he secretly wanted to be recognised by, but they were better than nothing.

Maybe he would act friendlier with Eiiko. It wasn't like the boy was a threat to his being Jūdaime's second-in-command and it might give him an insight into Nasake-semapi's connection to the Vongola.

As the teenager pinked slightly at the memory of his classmate's rather intimidating big sister patting him on the shoulder and wishing him a happy birthday with an absent-minded smile, he wondered if being Eiiko's friend would mean she noticed him more often. He didn't trust her really, but she was very pretty when she smiled and an exemplary subordinate to Hibari-sempai, the NDC Leader. Getting to know her better would probably be a smart move.

* * *

Auguri is Italian for 'congratulations' as in birthday wishes et cetera. Eiiko gets a bit of spotlight and Hayato has a slight crush...


	17. Barometer

_Barometer, noun: an ingenious instrument which indicates what kind of weather we are having._ Ambrose Bierce (1842 – 1914) from 'The Devil's Dictionary'.

* * *

Schnitten Brabanters was a quiet, self-effacing middle-aged Belgian who looked like he'd got caught in an explosion in a razorblade factory or been shoved in a sack with a dozen angry cats. He had half-a-dozen neat, straight scars on his face alone, countless more hidden underneath his smart suit and his hands were littered with nicks, cuts and other old wounds. He was also the Vongola Nono's Rain Guardian, responsible for the squaring of accounts, settling conflict and washing away the blood spilled; he was the Requiem Rain. It was in his capacity as Rain Guardian that he had been summoned to the hospital: the Carnevale Massacre had severely strained several truces. The Cavallone boss was dying, his heir injured and only alive due to the intervention of a civilian who had unexpectedly manifested Rain Flames. Timoteo had sent Schnitten to the hospital to visit the young woman whose Flames had saved the life of Dino Cavallone and see if she would be willing to join the Vongola in exchange for training and protection.

He had just entered the front door and made his request to the receptionist when the entire building shook and a muffled boom echoed from above them. The Rain Guardian picked out the high clatter of shattered glass and thumps of falling machinery an addition to the screams of people caught in the crossfire. Discreetly making himself scarce, Schnitten headed for the stairs: whoever was causing the chaos needed to be stopped.

A wave of cold air passed him as he reached the first floor and as he arrived on the second he noticed the icy flecks dancing in the air, oddly luminous. This was a type of Flame he'd never seen before, vaguely reminiscent of both Rain and Cloud Flames but not quite either. The cold was more pronounced on this floor, causing the Vongola Guardian's breath to condense in white clouds in front of him.

"Brabanters?" the Rain Guardian turned, flames dancing around his ring, then relaxed at the sight of Romario, the Cavallone heir's main bodyguard.

"Romario. How is the young Cavallone?" he asked quietly.

"Dino is well," Romairio assured him, "if extremely concerned for Signorina Elena. However now she is awake he will hopefully be reassured."

"Awake?" Schnitten repeated. "Since when?"

A few minutes ago; I'm sure you heard the explosion," Romario said sheepishly. "I'm afraid she is sadly lacking in control over her Flames. Dino is with her now, trying to help her stay calm but she apparently overheard the doctor mentioning her parents' deaths and the grief is affecting her badly."

As another faint tremor shook the hospital and a crash reached his ears, the Vongola Rain Guardian privately felt that Romario was rather understating the matter.

* * *

Schnitten Brabanters' first impression of Helene Flora Marshal, heir to the Hartwell Baronetcy, was of pain, grief and barely-leashed homicidal intent comparable to that of Belphegor of the Varia. With her control and comforts stripped away, what remained was a ferocious, instinctive protectiveness and bone-deep thirst for the blood of those who had harmed her, possibly fresh from the vein. The Rain Guardian wisely did not make the offer he had been sent to provide, recognising that Helene would lash out like a lioness at bay at anyone who got too close. Instead he offered her the Vongola Nono's condolences for her loss, promised to see to it that the individual responsible for the Massacre would be punished for their criminal negligence and would have left it at that, had she not called him out at the door.

"What else?" she asked, leaning heavily on the Cavallone heir who was sitting next to her on the bed, snuggled as close as their respective I.V.s would allow.

"Else?" Schnitten repeated, suddenly connecting the ice-blue fire that burned in the girl's eyes to something he'd only ever seen his own boss using before: Hyper Dying Will Mode.

"You're leaving something out," Helene said flatly, her certainty absolute.

"Vongola Nono wished me to thank you for your selfless actions concerning the Cavallone heir and offer you a place within the Vongola, in addition to training in using your new abilities," Schnitten said, invoking his own Flames and bracing himself for the inevitable.

He only had to wait a little while: the explosion blew out both the wall of shattered windows behind the bed and the thinner wall separating the room from the hall, channelling the blast so it sucked away the doors of the nearby rooms and rendered the lift shaft unusable. The Rain Guardian stood his ground as snow condensed from the frozen air and whirled around the pristine bed where Dino was hanging on a little more tightly to his female friend. The girl stared at him, hurt and disgust raw and visible in her eyes.

"You are like vultures, aren't you?" she said quietly, voice cutting through the driving snow. "Far away on the edge of perception until we fail and fall, then you swoop in, first one then more, waiting for the kill to fall into your lap." The snow parted around him, revealing a heap of rubble, a shell-shocked doctor and the Varia's Sun Flame user, Lussuria. "Go away, Rain Guardian."

Schnitten Brabanters left, but not before politely informing her that the offer remained. As he walked out, the flamboyant Varia assassin hurried to the girl's side and started fussing over her like a broody hen. As he stepped around the corner the snow around him stopped dancing and started to fall to the sound of deep, choking sobs and keening wails. The Rain Guardian didn't stop: the Vongola Nono needed to be informed of Signorina Marshal's closeness to the Varia so he could decide what steps should be taken. In the past years two of Timoteo's sons had died, one in a minor feud and one in a hit by an unknown party. Schnitten knew that Visconti, the Nono's Cloud Guardian, suspected Varia involvement in both deaths, but could not prove anything. Helene was now a powerful player and yet to chose a side, but her pre-existing connections did not fill the Rain Guardian with hope: until six weeks ago she had been dating Squalo Superbi and her friendship with Lussuria was well-known. The only hope for the Vongola was to use Leviathan, who was responsible for the incident, to drive a wedge between Helene Marshal and the Varia. Knowing exactly who was responsible for the loss of her family would likely prevent her from drawing closer to the organisation, if not the individuals.

* * *

The Vongola attempt damage control. There is always more going on that is immediately apparent.


	18. Virtue

_The very spring and root of honesty and virtue lie in good education._ Plutarch (46 AD - 120 AD).

* * *

Nasake set aside the paperwork she'd been filling out for the NDC and stretched, getting to her feet so she could bend over backwards in an attempt to ease the pain in her neck. At times like this she really missed Lussuria: the Sun Flame user was very good with his hands. Unfortunately there wasn't anyone in Namimori she trusted to give a good neck massage, so she would just have to live with the discomfort.

September had been fairly busy, but less stressful than August had been. The Athletic Fest was mainly an event for the boys to enjoy, so she hadn't involved herself. She'd heard about the pole-knocking incident afterwards and billed Reborn for half of medical bills of the students who had been incapacitated by Bianchi's poison cooking, sending the tiny hitman a letter informing him that, as Bianchi was staying with him, he would have to pay for any damage the Poison Scorpion did to civilians. Nasake did not ever use the word 'innocents': she didn't believe anyone was innocent. However that was no excuse for taking out your frustrations on people who had nothing to do with your predicament.

Shamal had also somehow managed to become a school nurse and stopped by her office to inquire about a flat in one of her buildings. Recognising that having a competent doctor in town –even one who was reluctant to treat males– while Reborn was teaching Tsuna and causing mayhem was an excellent idea the nineteen-year-old only sighed and offered to run interference for the inevitable harassment suits.

Then Kyoya had finally managed to hunt down Reborn. The Leader of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee had been extremely irritated with the smartly-dressed baby over the Dying Will Bullet incident and perfectly willing to bite the hitman to death. Reborn had defended himself until he got a feel for the violent teenagers' skills, then apologised for the mistake. Kyoya had been in a better mood after the fight and impressed by Reborn's skills, so he had agreed to let the matter drop. Reborn had also somehow persuaded the teen to give him his contact details and Nasake could tell it was only a matter of time until Hibari Kyoya was added to Tsuna's growing circle of associates. They weren't a Famiglia yet, but she had seen enough of the Vongola to know that Reborn was picking out Guardians for his students. The Future version of Lambo she'd so far met twice due to the Ten year Bazooka was a gifted Lightning user and called Tsuna 'Young Vongola', which told her more than she was really happy with. Her Lambo-chan was only five, for Christ's sake!

Her second meeting with the older Lambo had been very different to the first one: Lambo had not put his things away properly and tripped over the Bazooka while trying to find something in his bag. Once the purple smoke cleared away the older Lambo had grabbed her, flopped back on the sofa and buried his face in her hair, spooning against her back and shivering. Nasake had managed to wiggle around so that she could hug him back and had just held him until the five minutes were up and the Lambo that belonged in her timeline had returned, but that episode still haunted her. Older Lambo had cried silently into her shirt, barely moving other than a fine tremor that ran up and down his body as tears ran down his face. This was a stark contrast to the Lambo the committee members had seen goofing around with Tsuna and running away from Bianchi –so what if she had Kyoya's minions spying on Lambo; she had to look out for her bratling– who acted like a normal goofy teen and was just as much of a loud cry-baby as his younger self. She really worried about what had happened to her in the future he came from if this was how he reacted to seeing her. His only words to her before vanishing had been a whispered "I miss you so much, mamma," and they had all but broken her heart.

The arrival of a friendly Vongola specialist who wanted to demonstrate his skills with the newly-selected heir had been a welcome distraction; Moretti had been a cheerful sort and very low effort. All Nasake had needed to do was direct him over to the Sawada household and then wait around to hear the fallout. Eiiko managed to overhear Takeshi talking about 'that funny guy' the next day and had told his older sister all about it. She'd already heard part of it –Kyoya had informed her that Reborn had requested his help in 'toughening up the herbivore'– but it was nice to get the whole story.

* * *

Nasake filed all the paperwork away in the proper folders then set off for home so she could start dinner. She had taken half an hour off to collect Lambo from Kindergarten and take him home for his nap a while earlier, so hopefully when she got home he would be rested and ready for dinner.

As it turned out, Lambo wasn't in the house. Had she not known Lambo was armed and probably with Tsuna Nasake would probably have panicked; as it was she was very cross with the boy for disobeying and disrespecting her so. She was about to call Reborn to ask if he'd seen the young Bovino when her Nami-phone rang.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Fukurōsu-san?" Nasake recognised that voice.

"Yamamoto-san! How nice to hear from you," the teen said warmly to the sushi chef who owned her favourite restaurant. "Can I help you at all?"

"Yes: I have a small boy wearing cow print here who tried to eat and run," the chef who was also the father of Tsuna's friend Takeshi told her. "He claims you are his guardian."

"Lambo-chan tried to eat and run?" Nasake was embarrassed and angry. "I will be over there at once, Yamamoto-san. My sincerest apologies for my charge's disrespectful behaviour."

* * *

Tsuna had thought Nasake-sempai was scary at school: seeing her stalk into the sushi restaurant and frown disappointedly at Lambo was even scarier. Lambo clearly agreed with him, as the five-year-old promptly burst into tears. Nasake-sempai however did not relent, waiting for the little boy to finish crying then quietly requested that he apologise to Yamamoto-san. When Lambo had asked why, Nasake-sempai had explained –calmly and deliberately– that attempting to eat and run was highly disrespectful of the chef, as it implied that you didn't believe the food that had been prepared for you was worth paying for. Nasake-sempai added, still in that so-calm, so-disappointed voice, that Yamamoto-san was someone she knew well, as his restaurant was one of her favourites. Lambo's poor behaviour had therefore shamed her as well, as she was his guardian and it was her responsibility to teach him proper behaviour.

By this point Lambo was a quivering, repentant mess on the floor and was ready to sell his soul to get 'mamma' to stop looking so upset. After blowing his nose and wiping his face on Nasake-sempai's handkerchief Lambo apologised profusely to Yamamoto's father and manfully agreed to go without sweets for two whole weeks in order to pay for what he had eaten. Balancing Lambo on her hip, Nasake-sempai had paid Yamamoto-san for Lambo's share of the food eaten then politely asked Reborn for a private word.

Tsuna, Gokudera and Yamamoto had eavesdropped; after all, if they'd wanted privacy Nasake-semapi wouldn't have taken Lambo with her, right?

As it was, the three teens overheard the politest ever chewing-out Tsuna had ever listened to. Nasake-semapi made it very clear that she knew Lambo would never have come up with the idea of eating and running on his own, so Reborn must have served as a bad example to the little boy; after all, Tsuna was a well-behaved and respectful boy who would never dream of doing such a thing. Lambo clearly looked up to Reborn, so the hitman had to serve as a good example and demonstrate good, honourable mafia manners for Lambo to emulate. If this kind of thing ever happened again not only would Reborn be paying for it, but she would forbid Lambo from seeing Tsuna again.

In Tsuna's opinion Reborn's equally polite and abject apology was the scariest thing about the whole episode. His mafia tutor hadn't protested once.

After Nasake had left Reborn came back inside. "I know you were listening, Dama-Tsuna," the baby said dryly. "What do you want to ask?"

"Why did you just apologise?" Gokudera burst out. "You're a great hitman and she's just–"

"She is Lambo's guardian and responsible for his welfare," Reborn interrupted coolly. "His family have placed his life in her hands to mould as she sees fit. She has every right to complain if she feels I am undermining her hard work. If she were to undermine Dama-Tsuna's lessons I would be equally within my rights to complain to her."

"You know Nasake-sempai, Reborn?" Tsuna asked, puzzled.

"Nasake-san is responsible for Namimori, my No-Good Student," Reborn said matter-of-factly. "Anyone belonging to the Mafia who wants to visit here has to inform her beforehand or face the consequences."

Tsuna shivered: the consequences would likely involve a visit from an irate Hibari-sempai.

"Now I believe you still have a considerable debt to work off, so get back to the washing up," his tiny tutor added. "Do I need to shoot you?"

Tsuna squeaked and returned to the dishes.

* * *

More Lambo and Tsuna and a little more plot! Plus, Tsnua gets a little more insight into Nasake's background. Not having all the information, he naturally misunderstands bits of it.


	19. Gentle

_Be gentle with the young._ Juvenal (55 AD – 127 AD).

* * *

Nasake was in maths class when Lambo showed up at the window and did the universally recognised 'pee-pee dance' common to people of all ages who desperately need the toilet and whined loudly at her about his zipper being jammed. She reacted instantly, snatching the younger boy up and carrying him to the nearest toilets, where she solved the broken zipper issue by using her keiken to slit open his outfit. Lambo had been extremely unwilling to have a knife that near his groin, but had kept still when she told him to and then squirmed out of her arms so he could use the toilet. The immediate issue resolved, Nasake asked why he wasn't at kindergarten.

"I needed to pee and my zipper was broken!" Lambo reiterated.

"Wasn't there anyone at kindergarten who could have helped you?"

Lambo hesitated. "Lambo-san doesn't like the fluffy kindergarten people," the five-year-old muttered eventually, hands clasped behind his back and toe poking at the tiled floor. "They smile too much and lie about being Lambo-san's friends."

Nasake sighed. Honestly, she could understand his problem; she didn't much like fluffy, emotive people either. "Well, I'll call them to let them know where you are and then see about getting you a change of clothes," she said, picking up her charge. "I'll have to inform the teacher and Hibari-dono first though."

Lambo stilled. "Hibari-san is very scary," the cow-suited boy eventually managed in a very small voice.

"Scarier than me?" Nasake asked lightly as she perched him on her hip and carried him out of the bathroom.

Lambo stayed quiet through Nasake's retrieval of her schoolbag and the explanation to the Maths teacher about Lambo being fostered with her. It wasn't until she had left the classroom in search of Kyoya's science class that the young Bovino answered the question:

"Mamma is scarier than Hibari-san," Lambo said decisively. "Mamma will protect Lambo-san from Hibari-san, won't you?"

"That's right," Nasake agreed. "But if you misbehave it will be me punishing you, not him."

"I'll be good."

Lambo was indeed impeccably well-behaved, allowing Nasake to briefly inform Kyoya of her responsibility to the boy in her arms, the necessity of leaving school grounds to get him new clothes and the pass her Maths teacher had written her. Kyoya had frowned at Lambo but conceded that allowances existed within the school rules for this kind of situation. Temporarily released from her duties as left hand of the NDC –Tetsuya was the right hand– Nasake dumped her school bag in her office, grabbed her purse and hurried out towards the shops.

* * *

An hour later Nasake re-entered the gates of Namimori Middle, Lambo still perched on her hip and now wearing green dungarees over a cow print jumper and trainers with little cows on. A few more changes of clothing –all cow-themed– sat inside the shopping bag hanging from her left hand. Carrying Lambo was a precarious business, as her right knee wasn't quite up to the job despite no longer needing the brace, meaning she had to balance him on her left hip. The only problem with that was her left hand was her dominant hand and she had to use it to keep the little boy in place. This left her to use her right hand to do tasks with. Thankfully she was almost ambidextrous due to rigorous early training, but it was still inconvenient.

Baring in mind that she would have to get the notes from the class she had missed and go over the reports from both Study Club and the NDC, Nasake detoured by class 1-A as the bell rang to give the shopping bag full of clothes to Eiiko, who would be heading home before going out again shortly afterwards to attend Aikido class for several hours.

"Good afternoon, Nasake-san," came the voice of Reborn from knee level as Tsuna exited the classroom. "What brings you here with Lambo?"

Nasake handed over the shopping bag to Eiiko as he hurried past before replying: "Lambo-chan came to find me in class today but I have a lot of work to do now and Eiiko won't be able to watch him until after dinner. I suppose he'll have to sit in the office with me."

"Tsuna can help," the diminutive hitman offered instantly. "We can find a babysitter for Lambo."

The look Nasake gave the mafia home tutor communicated how unenthused she was with the idea. "Lambo-chan?"

"Yes mamma?"

"Would you like to stay with Tsuna until I've finished working today?" she asked. Lambo brightened at once.

"Dama-Tsuna is fun to play with! Mwahahaha!" the five-year-old announced, wriggling out of Nasake's arms and launching himself at the highly-strung Vongola heir, who squealed girlishly at the surprise attack. Both younger boys distracted, Nasake turned to Reborn.

"I will be blunt, Reborn-san: the last dozen times I left Lambo-chan in your care he has come home bruised, bleeding or poisoned and invariably upset. I know that much of this is at the hands of your student's Famiglia, but I hold you ultimately responsible as Tsuna's tutor. I recognise he is difficult to deal with but that is no excuse for abuse; that he is still willing to be around Tsuna is a testament to just how desperate he is for friends. Should he come to harm today I want the leeway to personally punish those responsible for upsetting him."

Reborn tipped his hat gravely. "Granted, Nasake-san. While a member of the Vongola must be strong, bullying is not a sign of strength or maturity."

"Thank-you, Reborn-san," Nasake said, bowing in gratitude. "I'll see you later, okay Lambo-chan?"

"Bye-bye mamma!" Lambo called out before tagging Tsuna in the knee and running away. "Mwahaha! Lambo-san is the greatest!"

* * *

The first indication Nasake had that having Tsuna and Reborn keep an eye on Lambo had been a poor decision was the explosion. She had been shuffling the Study Club tutor assignments to compensate for one of the older students being off sick when the distant boom of a grenade echoed across the playground. Sighing, Nasake swiftly set everything in order and hurried out of the office, locking the door behind her to ensure no-one would go sneaking in. As she hurried around the hall towards the area where Tsuna and his friends usually hung out she heard crying floating up from the ground and broke into a run. She had thus far let Lambo's mistreatment slide far too often: it was time to make an example of someone.

She hurried out of the door onto the playground just in time to see the ten-years-older version of Lambo materialise in the arms of Miura Haru, an admirer of Tsuna's who attended Midori Middle. Nasake could do nothing but watch as Haru faltered under the weight of the fifteen-year-old version of her ward and dropped him, spilling the cup of coffee he'd been holding.

"Oh, dear. Why is it always so painful when I come back ten years?" the well-dressed teen complained, rubbing his bruised behind. Nasake did not intervene immediately, staying out of sight: she had not yet witnessed for herself the older Lambo's interactions with Tsuna and his friends.

"Hahii! Who are you?" Haru shrieked. Nasake guessed this was her first real encounter with serious Vongola Physics, a subject that had reduced many aspiring scientists into quivering wrecks.

"It's been a while, dear younger Haru-san," the older Lambo said to Haru after getting to his feet and smiled winningly at the flustered girl.

"Kyaa! Pervert!" Haru shrieked, slapping the boy around the face. "If you don't button up your shirt I'm going to report you for public obscenity! This whole thing is perverted!" the girl's face was crimson; Nasake rolled her eyes at how prudish she was. Japanese people were ridiculously uptight about showing skin in public, in her opinion. Nasake was rather blasé about walking around half-naked, having spent her teenage years in Italy: by Italian standards Lambo was dressed rather conservatively. However she did not like to see her ward abused, no matter how old he was, so she set out across the playground to intervene.

"I understand completely Haru! What you say makes complete sense," Gokudera said, stepping closer to Lambo with a rather mean look on his face. Nasake had been aware that the silver-haired teen did not get along with Lambo at all, but this was a bit much. She moved faster, closing on the scene just as the Smokin' Bomb grabbed hold of Lambo's necklace:

"What is this weird necklace anyway? A nose ring is more fitting for you. Idiot cow!"

Lambo's eye widened as he leaned back, then suddenly and uncharacteristically narrowed as Gokudera tugged on the chain. Then Lambo was moving forward, hands gripping the irritable bomber's wrist and twisting.

"Aagh!" Gokudera cried, letting go and cradling his wrist. "You dumb cow! I should-" he cut off abruptly as Nasake gently pressed the sharp open edge of her tessen against his throat.

"You should what, Gokudera Hayato?" she inquired, voice light and dangerous. Older Lambo stared at her, wide-eyed.

"I- I- I-" Gokudera stammered.

"Lambo-kun? Are you alright?" Nasake asked quietly, her hands perfectly steady. The teen in the cow print shirt and pinstripe jacket swallowed hard, met her eyes and smiled tremulously despite the bruise on his face.

"I'm fine, mamma."

"Good. Gokudera-kun, apologise to Lambo-kun," Nasake said flatly. "Or must I instruct you in the reasons why bullying is not tolerated in Namimori?" the tessen pressed closer, slicing a fine red line across the silver-haired teen's throat.

"I'm sorry!" Gokudera squeaked, leaning as far away from the razor-edged fan as he could. "I'm really, really sorry!"

Nasake released him. "Good; remember not to act so again or I will not be so merciful," she said flatly as he scrambled away from her. "Miura-chan?"

"Hai?" Haru responded, face still red.

"Apologise to Lambo-kun for manhandling him."

"But he-" Haru protested.

"-Did nothing, Miura-chan," Nasake interrupted evenly. "There is nothing wrong with what he is wearing and he is not in any way responsible for the thoughts that sprung to your mind upon seeing him. Apologise." The fan in her hand flicked forward, flashing its steel ribs in the sun.

"I… Gomen nasai, Lambo-san," Haru muttered, face scarlet as she stared at her shoes. Nasake left the younger girl to her mortified embarrassment and walked closer to the teenage Lambo, who was still staring at her, left eye wide.

"Lambo-kun, it would probably help if you apologised to Gokudera-kun for bruising his wrist," she said gently.

"I am sorry for attacking you, Gokudera," Lambo said faintly. "This necklace is very precious to me: it was my mother's."

The bomber subsided a little at that pronouncement; from what Nasake knew of Gokudera Hayato, Lambo had probably struck a nerve.

"Hey, you: you dropped you horn," Yamamoto Takeshi said into the silence, holding up said item helpfully.

"Ah… please toss it over," Lambo said quietly, holding out his hands.

"Here you go!" the baseball enthusiast carolled, launching the item at the teen with a brutal overhand more suited to the sports pitch than the playground. The horn hit the teenager in the cow print shirt right between the eyes, knocking him backwards into Nasake and sending them both to the ground, Lambo sprawled across her lap.

"To.. le.." the older Lambo managed before bursting into tears. Nasake fished out her handkerchief and handed it to him.

"Yamamoto-kun, if you cannot moderate your reactions according to your circumstances I will have you removed from the team," she said icily as she got to her feet. The usually cheerful baseball player went white as a sheet.

"I'm really, really, really sorry, Nasake-sempai!" he exclaimed hurriedly. "I'll be more careful in future, I swear!"

"See that you are," she said flatly, placing a hand on the older Lambo's shoulder and squeezing comfortingly. The sobbing teenager reached out to grip her hand, his face still buried in his knees. The NDC secretary turned to look Tsuna in the eye:

"Inu-kubō, if you are to be a mafia boss you must be able to keep your subordinates in line. I entrusted Lambo-chan to your care and he is clearly not in the condition I left him in. This failure reflects poorly on both yourself and your tutor." Tsuna squeaked, eyes wide and panicky as next to the teen's knee Reborn stiffened almost imperceptively.

"Jūdaime doesn't fail at anything!" Gokudera shouted angrily.

"You failed to control your temper, Gokudera-kun, which reflected poorly on your boss and led to this situation," Nasake responded coolly, making the silver-haired teen stumble in horror. "Had I been a prospective ally your actions would have cost your boss a treaty. Consider yourself fortunate that I do not see the need to pursue the matter further." With that she helped the still sniffling Bovino teen to his feet and led him away from the group without a backward glance.

* * *

More of Lambo and his mamma, because I like their interactions.


	20. Afraid

_Some have been thought brave because they were afraid to run away._ Thomas Fuller (1608 – 1661).

* * *

When one of the staff interrupted Lussuria's investigation of the details of his next prospective hit to tell him he had guests, the twenty-one-year-old was perfectly happy to put off work for a while longer. It was supposedly Squalo's birthday today, but the swordsman was in a truly dreadful mood as Helene had been removed from the hospital by Nono's Guardians four days previously and they had neither seen nor heard from her since. Lussuria wasn't too worried –Helene was both strong enough and caring enough that they would try to recruit her before resorting to violence– but Squalo was furious. He had thus far been taking out his anger on the recruits, but most of them were in the infirmary by now so he was probably brooding somewhere and working on his sword style.

As he walked down the stairs Lussuria noticed that the air was cooler than it had been earlier, despite it being later in the day. Perking up as he realised who it was exactly that had come to visit, the Muay Thai specialist grabbed the nearest servant and ordered them to go and tell Squalo that Helene had come to see them, them hurried towards the reception room to greet his guests.

Slamming open the double doors to the elegantly attired drawing room where the Varia hosted their more important guests, Lussuria took a moment to get a feel for the situation at hand. It was a wise decision: Helene had not come alone. She and her baby brother were sitting together on the loveseat, so close the eleven-year-old was almost in his big sister's lap. The adorable little blond's arms were still heavily bandaged, his mitten-like left hand trying to grip the top of his sister's right hand, which in turn was gently squeezing the little boy's leg just above his left knee. Standing behind them and looming over the loveseat were the Vongola Rain and Mist Guardians, Schnitten Brabanters and Bouche Croquant. Lussuria narrowed his eyes at the two from behind his sunglasses: they would do nothing to assuage Squalo's foul mood. But that would have to wait.

"Helene! How wonderful to see you up and about again!" Lussuria gushed with a smile, moving across the room to lift the fragile-looking teen up into a hug. "I was expecting to be the one to get the call to come and fetch you, considering I was the emergency contact your father set up, but everything seems to have worked out regardless."

Helene's lips twitched up into a brief, watery smile as she returned the hug, leaning heavily on the solidly built Varia assassin who had greeted her so enthusiastically. Lussuria noticed with interest that despite the rest of the room being so cold he could almost see his breath condensing in the air, while holding his shopping buddy he was as warm as a summer evening.

"So, what brings you here?" Lussuria asked, leaning back a little so he could look Helene in the eye.

Helene's face fell slightly, setting into an expression of resigned determination. Lussuria had seen that look before: the girl got it when she knew something had to be done and she really, really didn't want to do it, but liked the idea of someone else having to do whatever-it-was for her even less. "We have to go back to England for the funeral, Lussuria," Helene said quietly in Arabic, the language the Muay Thai user had spent many, many summer afternoons and Sundays teaching her. "As I am only seventeen Titus and I will probably be separated and sent to different guardians, so this may well be the last time he will get to see you until he is considered old enough to make his own choices."

Lussuria glanced over at the Vongola Guardians, noted that they didn't seem to have understood a word of the exchange, gently replaced Helene on the loveseat and crouched down in front of Titus. He rather liked the little boy: Titus was friendly, interested in everything and utterly charming. He was also delightfully unprejudiced and was just as happy watching Belphegor practice with his knives as he was helping in the kitchen. Helene was admired by all, but Titus would be missed for the brightness he brought and his ability to worm his way into anything. Only Ottabio found the child tiresome, but Lussuria felt that was due to Ottabio being a boring stick-in-the-mud. With all of this in mind, Lussuria smiled wryly at the twelve-year-old.

"Well it seems this is goodbye, Titus."

The little blond sniffed, tears welling up in his eyes. "Don't want to go," he muttered in Italian, making Lussuria's heart twinge. "Mum and Dad aren't here anymore and I don't want to lose any more people. Why can't we stay here with you?"

Lussuria felt rather than saw Helene shudder as the air around them swirled a little and tiny glimmering snowflakes materialised in the artificial breeze. He patted the unhappy boy on the knee. "You parents made provisions for you so you could be happy. They wouldn't have wanted you to be miserable, would they now?"

Titus scowled. "The stupid provisions were to make my uncle the earl and our grandmother happy, 'cause we're the heirs. I want to stay with my sister!" He promptly burst into noisy tears. Helene dragged the boy into her lap and rocked him, fishing out a handkerchief and pushing it into his clumsy, fumbling, bandaged grip. Lussuria could tell by the particular set to the Rain and Mist Guardian's faces that this was not the first time Titus had had a meltdown.

* * *

The door crashed open again –this time with rather more force– and Squalo stalked in. Helene was on her feet in an instant, Titus pushed into Lussuria's startled arms as she limped over to the angry swordsman. Squalo spotted her at once and swept her up into his arms before she could go more than three steps, dropping into one of the armchairs with her held firmly in his grasp.

"Vooi! Where were you?" he grouched, not entirely seriously. Lussuria could tell Squalo was terribly relieved to see his former girlfriend still mostly in one piece. Helene twisted so she was sitting sideways across Squalo's knees and gently lent her forehead against his chin.

"We have to go to England for the funerals," she repeated, this time in Russian, a language both the swordman and Muay Thai user were fluent in and one she had studied in school. "After that Titus will likely have to stay with our uncle the Earl of Bury, as he is both underage and the new Vicount Haverhill, while I will be placed with my grandmother on my mother's side, the Baronetess Hartwell. Grandmother is very old and frail, so she will probably agree to appointing my guardianship elsewhere or emancipating me outright. I will be eighteen in under a year anyway. My real concern is that I have no control and need training, but the only people capable of teaching me belong to the Vongola." She looked up to meet Squalo's eyes before glancing over to Lussuria and transfixing him with the ferocity that burned in those icy blue orbs. "My first obligation is to my family and heritage, but I know the Vongola will take from me all that it can and more than I am willing to part with. That is what the Mafia does." She dropped her eyes and reverted to Italian. "I will likely be returning in about two weeks; I stopped by to tell you where I was going and to give Squalo his birthday present."

The swordsman blinked. "But you've been in hospital! You didn't have to get me anything!"

Helene poked him in the ribs. "We're friends, right? Of course I got you something." She scrambled off Squalo's lap and limped back over to the loveseat and fished out a box from underneath it. "Here."

Squalo, who had got up and followed her, accepted the gift, perched on the edge of the coffee table and carefully unwrapped the box. It had always secretly amused Lussuria that, when he was not paying attention to who was watching, Squalo was extremely careful when opening things, especially presents.

Inside the box were two smaller boxes; Squalo glared playfully at Helene, set the smaller box aside and opened the larger one to reveal an exceedingly high-quality sword maintenance kit.

"Dad helped me find it back in January," Helene said softly to Lussuria as the swordsman's attention was abruptly absorbed by his new toys. "Said everyone had the right to make their own choices and if this was Squalo's he'd better be prepared for the inevitable consequences."

Lussuria nodded, shifting the still-sniffling Titus over into his sister's lap. The twelve-year-old had curled in on himself and had his eyes screwed shut, apparently trying to calm down.

Much to Lussuria's disappointment, Squalo did not open the smaller box. The kanji on the top said 'private', which suggested the contents were more interesting and possibly blackmail-worthy. Instead however the Second Sword Emperor got to his feet and eyeballed the two Vongola Guardians.

"VOI! What are you here for?"

It was Bouche Croquant who answered, the smart suit the part-African was wearing in sharp contrast to the numerous piercings in his ears.

"Signorina Marshal has no control over her Flames and cannot suppress them. Ideally she would remain with the Vongola until she was able to conceal them by herself, but that is not possible. Therefore Nono has assigned us to ensure her condition does not become public and to prevent accidents."

"Accidents?" Lussuria repeated.

"They don't want me nearly killing people," Helen said flatly, eyes staring vacantly into space, "which has already happened twice."

"Wait, twice?" Lussuria asked, startled. "I knew about the incident with that doctor, but when was the second time?"

"She almost killed Ganauche when we went to fetch her," Schnitten Brabanters said quietly. "It was an accident; he should have known better than to startle her after Leviathan nearly killed her."

Squalo snorted. "He can't be a very good Lightning Guardian if Helene almost killed him by accident."

"Her Flames have an extremely potent Tranquillity factor and propagate rapidly," Schnitten said mildly. "It is difficult to defend yourself if you cannot even breathe."

* * *

"Since you're here, do you want to stay for dinner?" Lussuria said, blatantly changing the subject. "I know the staff will all miss our little ball of sunshine here," he ruffled Titus' hair, "and Bel will want to see how you are."

"Is Levi here?" Helene asked, turning fiery blue eyes on the Muay Thai specialist.

Lussuria hesitated.

"That's a yes, then," Helene sighed. "I'd better not stay; I promised the Vongola Nono I would do my best not to kill any of his people and if I saw _him_ I probably wouldn't be able to stop myself."

"He's a moron," Squalo muttered grumpily, getting to his feet so he could help Helene get to hers. "I'll see you when you get back, okay? Take care of yourself."

Helene rose on tiptoes so she could kiss him goodbye. "You take care too, okay? You have people counting on you."

Lussuria kissed Helene goodbye as well, privately impressed by the subtle reference to Xanxus that had helped the swordsman keep his temper, then watched the two Marshals leave with the Guardians.

"Luss?" Squalo said once the Vongola car had left the drive.

"Yes?"

"Do we know anyone who would be willing to teach Helene? I don't want her anymore beholden to Nono than can be helped. She's serious about duty and if it came to an outright battle I want her on our side, not his."

"I'll look into it," Lussuria promised.


	21. Experience

_Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him._ Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963).

* * *

About halfway through October Nasake was enjoying an evening in: Lambo was playing at Tsuna's, the bullying having reduced rather with the threat of terrible retribution still fresh in the minds of the Vongola heir's fledgling Famiglia, Eiiko was out with his own friends and she herself had no outstanding work that needed doing. Nasake was therefore taking advantage of the lull and relaxing in the main room of the house, listening to music and making temari. Nasake made them as a leisure time activity to help her wind down and reduce stress, but the brightly coloured traditional toys were also considered highly meaningful gifts for friends and children so she made each one with someone in mind. She'd already made one for Lussuria, one for Dino and one for Squalo and was working on one for Lambo when somebody knocked on the door. Sticking a pin in the half-wrapped rag ball so it wouldn't unravel in her absence, Nasake rose to her feet and went to answer; whoever it was, dealing with them likely wouldn't take very long.

She opened the door to reveal a small child in an indigo Chinese working outfit and a pigtail, who promptly bowed and addressed the nineteen-year-old in rapid-fire Cantonese. Nasake knew more Cantonese than any other dialect of Chinese –the area around Hong-Kong was richer in Mafia activity than the rest of the massive country– and managed to infer than the child's name was I-Pin and that she was in Namimori at the behest of her master, who had sent her to Japan on an assassination mission. I-Pin had been informed of who to contact when visiting certain towns and was informing Nasake of her presence as a courtesy. Nasake bowed back, managed to respond politely, thank the young assassin for the courtesy and extend a greeting to the girl's master, which got an embarrassed grimace in reply, a quick bow and a hasty exit. Apparently I-Pin was terribly shy.

After returning to her temari Nasake's mind continued to tease at the issue of I-Pin. The child's gender was not immediately apparent but looked about four years old, so whoever their master was had likely raised them almost from birth. The Vongola had very few allies in China, as the Triads tended to limit their activities to areas with significant Chinese populations and rarely allied with foreigners. In fact, the only Triad overtly allied to the Vongola was the one headed by the infamous Leilei brothers, the ferocious tigers of Asia. If one expanded the circle to include Mafia members who came from China, however, there was a wider range of people I-Pin could possibly be associated with. Nasake however was leaning towards I-Pin being the student of the Arcobaleno Fon, whom she'd only ever heard of. Fon was Chinese, had connections to the Leilei brothers, the Mafia and –if she'd read the signs correctly– Namimori. Not that Hibari would be particularly pleased if he found out about what her digging had unearthed, but she had no intention of telling him about it any time soon; she recognised that some things were private, after all.

Deciding not to pursue the matter further, the nineteen-year-old allowed her attention to become fully absorbed in her work. I-Pin would not harm Tsuna or his friends unless Reborn orchestrated a clash, in which case the diminutive hitman would be on hand to prevent nasty accidents. She had nothing to worry about.

* * *

Nasake winced as the massive explosion overhead shook the school; she should have realised that Reborn would expedite an encounter between his student and the visiting assassin. She had looked up I-Pin through her contacts and discovered that the child was female, four years old and a capable Gyoza-kenpo user with the ominous nickname of 'the human bomb'. Her master was indeed Fon the Storm Arcobaleno, leading Nasake to wonder exactly how many other Arcobaleno students there were and how many of them would wind up in Namimori. Verde seemed more the type to take on test subjects than students, but that still left Colonnello, Aria and Skull; Lal Mirch didn't really count.

Putting away her work and locking the filing cabinet, the secretary of the NDC set out to find the young assassin. There was no chance at all that I-Pin had actually been sent to harm Tsuna, so there must have been a misunderstanding somewhere. As she was making her way down the stairs the sleek silver phone in her back pocked vibrated; checking no-one was paying attention she fished it out and answered, taking note of the unfamiliar number.

"Pronto?"

"Greetings, Dame Helene Marshal," came the response in faintly accented English. "I am Fon. I believe my student I-Pin is currently in Namimori?"

"That is so," the nineteen-year-old replied in Italian, preferring not to leave her privacy at the mercy of the ignorance of her fellow students. "I believe she has run into Reborn and his latest student and I am going to see what has occurred."

"I-Pin understands Japanese perfectly, but has difficulty speaking it," the Arcobaleno said musingly. "I would like her to remain in Japan after carrying out her hit in order to gain experience. Would you be willing to watch over her, honoured lady?"

"I am already responsible for a child, Fon," Helene said as she took in the slight scorching on the upper corner of one of the school buildings, drawing on her long-ago etiquette lessons to convey respect without undue deference. "I lack the resources to properly provide for a second one."

"I assure you I will provide all she needs to continue her martial education," Fon replied calmly, somehow conveying a warm smile through the telephone. "I merely hoped you would be willing to offer her with somewhere to sleep and give her a chance to improve her Japanese."

"If you can ensure she is willing to attend kindergarten with my other charge and behave appropriately around civilians I would be willing to open my home to her," Helene relented, feeling defeated. How was it possible to withstand such polite and unassuming pleasantries? That the mild Arcobaleno could evoke such an effect over the phone was truly incredible!

"I will do so, Dame Marshal," Fon assured her, his words warm and genuine. "I thank you for your consideration and generosity."

Murmuring the necessary pleasantries before hanging up, Nasake steeled herself. I-Pin was no-where in sight, meaning Tsuna and his miniature tutor had probably taken her back to the Sawada residence. Bianchi had been out of town for most of the past week, but visiting the Vongola heir's home was always extremely difficult for her. Nana in particular made Nasake sincerely wish that the oblivious woman was not the CEDEF head's beloved wife, just so she could beat that determined, air-headed naivety out of the Sawada woman.

* * *

Time passes, I-Pin arrives. Helene/Nasake speaks a lot of different languages as a result of hanging around the Varia for so long, being highly intelligent and linguistcally inclined. Cantonese is one of these, as is so-called Standard Chinese. Russian and Arabic have already made their appearance, as have Japanese, Italian and English. She also knows French and Greek, making her sufficiently polyglot to be a Varia candidate: she speaks more than seven languages.


	22. Mistake

_Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life._ Sophia Loren (1934 - ).

* * *

It had been over a week since Nasake had agreed to let I-Pin stay in her home after the little girl completed her hit, and despite hearing about a number of Pinzu-timed super explosions, as her self-detonation attack was called, the undercover nineteen-year-old had not yet caught up with the four-year-old assassin. Lambo had not yet encountered the little girl either, which Nasake was grateful for: considering that the Human Bomb was set off by embarrassment and Lambo got a kick out of upsetting people, their meeting was bound to be explosive.

It being Sunday morning, Nasake was slowly cleaning the house and enjoying the fact she did not have to be anywhere particular at all today. Lambo had run off to play at Tsuna's house about mid-morning and Eiiko was in his room chatting with his friends online. Nasake had finished the hoovering, dusted and was about to get the mop out when a massive explosion shook the entire town, rattling pictures off the walls and setting off car alarms in the street. As the aftershocks die sdown Nasake grabbed her steel fans from where they had fallen, slipped her feet into her shoes and dashed out of the door towards the epicentre of the blast, calling out to Eiiko where she was going as she did so. Whatever _that_ had been, she needed to be there.

As she dashed out to the street, grabbed her motorbike and set off zigzagging between dazed passers-by and cars stopped willy-nilly on the road, her Nami-phone rang in her pocket. Fishing it out without her control over the vehicle ever wavering, Nasake lifted it to her ear:

"Moshi-moshi?"

"Nasake." It was Kyoya.

"I am unhurt, Kyoya-kun," she assured him as she pelted around a corner towards the trail of smoke rising in the air, "and am currently investigating."

"Good," the leader of the NDC said shortly and hung up. Nasake shoved the phone back in her pocket and zipped around another corner. Hibari Kyoya really did care for her in a possessive, prickly kind of way, as evidenced by the fact he allowed her to call him 'Kyoya-kun' when it was just them and Tetsuya. He was her friend, the first male friend she had made in Namimori and the one she was closest to, not that she could get very close considering she was operating under a false identity and lying about her age. Nasake dreaded what would happen when the truth inevitably surfaced, which it would now that Tsuna had been made Nono's heir and more and more members of the Vongola Famiglia and allies made their way to Namimori. She had not been particularly well-known, but the Carnevale Massacre had put her firmly on the Vongola radar and all of the upper echelons knew _of_ her at the very least, which would eventually lead any number of rival Famiglias to her door seeking to assassinate or subvert her. Shunting her off to Namimori had been as much to hide her as it had been to make use of her talents: she was out of the way, easily accessible and very hard to find. Or at least, had been all those things until Reborn arrived and started raising hell.

* * *

The epicentre of the explosion turned out to be the Sawada family home, which looked like it had suffered a gas explosion. The roof was completely gone, as was half the first floor and the entire chunk of single storey ground floor. I-Pin was sitting in the shallow crater where the single storey section had been looking rather confused and in the wrecked remains of the house Nasake could see Tsuna, Reborn, Hayato, Takeshi, Haru and Lambo crawling out from a sheltered part of the upper floor. Likely Reborn had shielded them from the blast in some way.

Sighing, she fished her Nami-phone out of her pocket and called the office of her construction company: this Iemitsu would be willing to fund, for his wife's sake.

"What happened? Is anybody hurt?" came the anxious voice of Sawada Nana from behind Nasake as the oblivious lady of the house wandered up the street.

"I believe it may have been a gas explosion, Sawada-san," Nasake said before the dazed teenagers could react. "I have already called a construction company to come and deal with the house. Lambo-chan, are you all right?"

The little boy in greyscale khaki trousers and a green jumper with cows on it staggered across the debris-strewn lawn and hugged her tightly around the knees. "Mamma," he whimpered, eyes wide and shocky as tears trickled down his cheeks. Nasake pried him off and lifted him up so she could hug him back; the five-year-old burrowed his head into her shoulder and trembled, sobbing quietly.

"I-Pin-chan?" Nasake addressed the likely cause of the explosion as Tsuna, Reborn and the Vongola heir's growing Famiglia were fussed over by Sawada Nana. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I-Pin's story was not hard to untangle. She had arrived at the Sawada household shortly after breakfast just ahead of a shower of rain and had assisted Nana-san in getting the washing in. Then Tsuna had woken up and Lambo had arrived. I-Pin had initially mistaken Lambo for the broccoli monster and been chased around the house by him as Tsuna's friends arrived. Haru had briefly lent I-Pin a pair of glasses, which had enabled her to determine that Lambo was not, in fact, the broccoli monster, then the cow-clothed boy had embarrassed her and set off her Pinzu-timed super explosion. However just before she exploded she had found herself in the middle of the street just outside a ramen restaurant. She had not recognised anything around her and the dates on the posters had been wrong, but a few minutes later she had found herself back at the Sawada house in the middle of the crater.

Nasake deduced that the I-Pin from ten years in the future had been the one to explode, with proportionally greater force that the four-year-old present I-Pin was capable of. Hence the devastaion.

* * *

"Who used the Ten-year Bazooka on I-Pin-chan?" Nasake eventually inquired, raising her voice so as to be heard over Nana-san's fussing. Lambo only ever used it on himself and didn't like sharing.

"Reborn did it," Tsuna said promptly, ratting out his tutor without a moment's hesitation.

Nasake sighed. "The house will go on the insurance, Reborn-san, but the other municipal damages will be considerably more expensive. You needn't pay for all of it, but a contribution would be nice."

"Municipal damage?" Takeshi asked, blood trickling from a cut on his upper arm.

"The streets are full of crashed cars and every house from here to the outer limits will have suffered earthquake damage," Nasake elaborated. "Likely the government will stump up some money but a few discreet donations would not go amiss."

Reborn tipped his hat at her, manner slightly sheepish. "I will see what can be done, Nasake-san," he offered.

"Thank-you. I-Pin-chan?"

The petite assassin looked up at her inquiringly.

"Your Shishō has requested that I open my home to you while you are in Japan," Nasake said formally with a polite bow. "Will you accept my hospitality, I-Pin-chan?"

I-Pin bowed back, much lower, and thanked the older girl profusely for her generosity.

"I don't want Tail-head to live with us!" Lambo whined.

"Manners, Lambo-chan," Nasake warned her ward, frowning at him briefly. "I will not be I-Pin-chan's guardian, but her Shishō feels she is too young to be left to fend for herself just yet. She will spend the nights in our home and will attend kindergarten with you during the week. Other than that, her time is her own and she is not my responsibility."

"You won't be her mamma?" the five-year-old asked hopefully.

"No, Lambo-chan. I will be her landlady and no more." Nasake did not add that she had enough problems dealing with Lambo and wouldn't have added I-Pin at all had Fon not been so aggressively pleasant and his request so limited. Another ward would have been more than she could handle.

"It's so good of you to take care of the little ones, Fukurōsu-san!" Sawada Nana said brightly, having apparently processed the damage to both home and family to the point that she could now compartmentalise and ignore it. "Your family must be so proud of you."

Nasake's face tightened. "My parents are dead and I am my brother's guardian, Sawada-san. We have no-one else." Having effectively killed the conversation dead she lifted I-Pin onto her shoulder and went back to her bike. Technically it was illegal to carry small children without helmets but she would go slowly and the police would be far too busy elsewhere to interfere, not that they would anyway given her connection to Kyoya.

* * *

Reborn using the Ten-year Bazooka on I-Pin turned out to be a Bad Idea. Nasake however manages to catch up with Fon's adorable little student.


	23. Memory

_Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in memory as the wish to forget it._ Michel de Montaigne (1533 – 1592).

* * *

Helene sincerely wished she could be anywhere, anywhere at all except at her mother's funeral. She did not want to sit at the front of the church, a handkerchief in one hand and her brother's bandaged mitt in the other, and try to make it through the service without breaking down and causing a blizzard. Her father's funeral had been agony: she'd started crying during the second hymn as it had been one of her father's favourites, one he often sung in the mornings. Only the Rain Guardian beside her harmonising with and suppressing her out-of-control Flames and the Mist Guardian on the other side of her brother hiding the anomaly from the rest of the guests had stood between her and utter disaster. It had gotten worse when her father's best friend had started the eulogy and only her early lessons in breathing control that had been part of naginata training had prevented her from breaking down and howling.

She hated funerals. Hated the gnawing pain that ate at her heart, hated the tightness and tingling in her skin that told her where every last scar had carved itself through her flesh, hated the deep ache and weakness in her right knee that forced her to walk with a cane. She also hated the tears that seeped from her eyes every time she saw, heard or even thought something that reminded her of her parents, hated her own increased appetite that was paired with an uneasy queasiness every time she ate more than a tiny portion of food. Her body demanded feeding even as her stomach rebelled, forcing her to eat seven or eight times a day and snack continuously. Most of all however she hated her lack of control over the icy fire that danced in her blood and all around her. That deficiency made her vulnerable, prey to the machinations of the Mafia. Part of her mind was already going over contingencies and ruthlessly dividing her life into what she was willing to sacrifice and what she would never relinquish. The latter list was uncomfortably short, including only her family, her mind, her loyalty –she was pledged to inherit the duties of her mother's line as the heir and would serve no other cause– and her firstborn. As with her loyalty, her first child –a daughter, as were all other firstborns going back over fifteen generations– was pledged to her mother's line. The Heir could serve none save the Family; such was the rule. If she pledged her loyalty elsewhere, she would lose family and firstborn both, and Helene knew that would kill her: she was strong but not that strong.

Helene also hated the fact that today was the last time she would see her brother for a long, long time. Titus was now the Viscount Haverhill, heir to the Bury earldom, so his guardianship went to her uncle Horace. Uncle Horace was the Earl of Bury, her late father's elder brother, and the middle-aged man had gently made it clear that, as she was a minor, she could not claim her brother's guardianship. Nor could he go with Helene to her own guardian, as Titus had to learn about his new responsibilities as Viscount. He did agree that, once Helene was eighteen, she could come and petition for her brother's guardianship, so long as she was adequately set up to provide for him. Helene had every intention of holding him to that, Vongola training be damned. Her brother was all she had left of her father and she would not lose him without a fight.

* * *

Each of her parents' will readings had been on the day before their individual funerals, and both had involved a number of clashes between would-be inheritors and various family members despite her parents having left practically everything to herself and her brother.

Her father's will had been complex and highly enlightening. Helene had been granted a private reading of a section of it which neither Guardian was permitted entrance for: the lawyer had raised an eyebrow at the glittering swirl of ice crystals dancing around her but not commented on either it or the abrupt drop in air temperature in the room as the two Vongola departed.

Firstly it had laid out that, despite her not being his daughter by blood, she had been legally adopted into the Marshal family and was permitted to go on using the family surname until she either married or chose to change it. Secondly he left her the portion of his private estate that would have fallen to her had she been his biological daughter rather than simply born after his marriage to her mother. Thirdly it made clear that the guardianship his son and heir would fall to her as soon as she was old enough: her father felt that Titus would do better with her than with Hugo's older brother considering the Earl was a lifelong bachelor and largely oblivious to the emotional wellbeing of others.

Lastly he had requested that she not mourn too long, to make her own way in the world and do whatever caught her fancy, as he would always consider her his own child. Helene had cried after that, and needed most of an hour to pull herself back together again.

Her mother's will had been much simpler, as Sayuri Marshal had only a substantial sum of money and her personal effects to her name as opposed to her husband's various businesses, properties and deeds. Her mother had left most of her belongings to Helene with a few tokens given to other friends and relatives and split the money –her dowry– between her two children. Neither could touch the capital until they were of age, but the interest was enough to keep them both in pocket money indefinitely regardless. In fact, adding that money to what their father had left them, either of the Marshal children could have bought and furnished a house and lived quite comfortably if not exactly extravagantly until they died, without ever working. Not that Helene had any intention of becoming a lady of leisure: she enjoyed the satisfaction of a job well done far too much to fall into idleness and her insatiable thirst for knowledge and challenges drove her ever onward.

As her mother's funeral drew to a close Helene braced herself for the well-wishing of relatives, friends and associates. Beside her Titus gripped her hand more tightly, trying to melt into her side as he hid his face in her smart, sombre jacket. The quiet, still, reticent eleven-year-old was barely recognisable as the bright, chatty boy who'd laughed and played tag with Dino at Carnevale six weeks earlier. Her brother had always been a very sensitive child and his parents' death had hit him hard. Helene knew there was nothing she could do for him anymore but was deeply concerned about the damage nine months in the care of her oblivious, neglectful uncle would do to his psyche. She had taken the precaution of confiding in her aunt Florence, her father's younger sister, who had promised to keep an eye on him, but that was scant comfort as aunt Florence had four children of her own and was expecting a fifth. Helene loved and respected her aunt greatly –she was an excellent parent– but the woman was already rushed of her feet without adding her grieving nephew to the mix.

* * *

Relinquishing Titus to his uncle was the hardest thing Helene had ever done, harder even than breaking up with Squalo had been. The short blond boy with red-rimmed green eyes had reluctantly let go of her hand and dragged his feet as he walked towards the Earl, the set of his face suggesting he was walking to his death. Uncle Horace had been oblivious to the mood but Helene had been in a state of light shock after being left alone and only the guiding hand of Bouche Croquant on her shoulder and the intervention of her frail but still frighteningly sharp maternal grandmother had kept her from walking into something and hurting herself. The Baronetess Hartwell led Helene over to a corner and prepared a cup of fresh green tea for her, coaxed her dazed granddaughter into drinking it then poured another one.

"Helene dear, I will take you home," the elderly Baronetess said firmly. "You are in no state to make small talk and no-one will fault you for your absence."

Helene just nodded, both hands steadying her cup of tea as best they could. She was too far gone for words.

"Dame Bernice, we have been charged with Miss Helene's wellbeing," Schintten Brabanters protested gently when Helene's grandmother told the two Guardians to return to their hotel. "We cannot simply leave her-"

"Of course you can," Dame Bernice Hartwell said matter-of-factly. "My dear granddaughter is in no danger with me. I am well aware of what troubles her that you are here for and am capable of dealing with it myself. She is after all my heir and such things are infamous for running in families. That will be all, gentlemen." With that the white-haired Baronetess guided Helene out of her seat and over to the car her chauffer had stopped just outside the church hall.

Helene obediently climbed into the car, settled her skirts and nodded as Bouche Croquant waved his call phone at her before the chauffer drove off. She would indeed call her two minders when the time came for her to leave her grandmother's care, but until then she would make the most of the privacy granted. Said grandmother was sitting next to her in the back of the car, one hand on Helene's wrist and suppressing the erratic cold white flames that danced around her to the point that they barely flickered over her skin.

"You know, the family curse hasn't awoken to this extent since my own grandmother was caught in a train crash as a young woman," her grandmother said with a soft sigh. "It is a terrible thing to survive a tragedy simply because the family line refuses to allow the heir to die."

"Will they never stop burning then?" Helene heard herself ask.

"When your first child is born the involuntary protection will fail, but the Living Flames will be at your beck and call until the day you die, my dear," Dame Bernice informed her, squeezing her wrist comfortingly. "Until then the best you can do is learn to suppress it. Oh, and learn the history. Now you're to be the next Baronetess I will have to give you the ring and diaries before you leave, my dear: I'm not long for this world now and I'll not leave you unprepared."

"Leave?" Helene repeated faintly. "I thought-"

"By Family lore, those who have awoken the Living Flame are adults in the eyes of the family, Helene," her grandmother told her sadly, "And even if that were not the case, I am not equipped to teach you to control your power. Those two gentlemen were of the Vongola, were they not?" Helene nodded. "I thought I recognised the rings. A former heir once forsook the family to follow the Vongola Primo, so we know quite a bit about them from her diaries and those of her daughter. They will teach you what you need to know."

"But at what cost?" Helene whispered in despair, closing her eyes as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Oh, sweetheart," her grandmother crooned, wrapping an arm around her and pushing a new handkerchief into her grip, "the Vongola Nono will understand that family comes first if you tell him a little of the lore. Beyond that, demand a written contract with conditions and penalties and offer nothing you are not willing to give. There, there, darling, cry all you want. I miss them both too."

Helene, secure in the knowledge that she could not wreck anything so long as her grandmother held her in her arms, gave up all semblance of control and wept bitterly.


	24. Company

_Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have someone to divide it with._ Mark Twain (1835 – 1910).

* * *

Eiiko sat at his desk at the far side of the front of the class, a faint but sincere smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. Today was his fourteenth birthday and his big sister had once again pushed the boat out and made it a day to remember, all before school! He had woken up to a specially prepared breakfast with Italian brioche that had been shipped over from a specialist patisserie in the middle of the night and were still warm when they arrived on his plate, smoked bacon, scrambled egg and thick, rich hot chocolate with real whipped cream. Lambo had been acutely jealous of the spread, but being five had only managed to eat one brioche and two rashers of bacon before feeling full. I-Pin had only eaten some of the egg, choosing to stick to the diet her Shishō had set her. Eiiko however had attacked the feast with vigour and sneaked three brioche into his bag to eat while at school.

He had also received over dozen cards –most of them from his sister– and two presents; Eiiko knew the rest of his birthday gifts would be waiting for him when he got home after Aikido this evening and was happily basking in the feeling of being utterly spoilt as he waiting for the teacher to show. His two morning gifts had been a brand-new pack of cards with an accompanying book on slight-of-hand and card tricks –including how to cheat– and their father's daishō. His big sister had explained slightly tearily that he was now old enough –and big enough– to use real steel, and that his kendo teacher had agreed he was capable and responsible enough not to misuse the weapon. The daishō had been in their paternal grandmother's family for generations and was an heirloom, not that the two swords' status as antiques was any excuse not to use them. Eiiko had been overwhelmed and cried a few tears himself at the sheer scale of the faith being shown him. He was now the man of the family –never mind that his sister was the one earning the money– and had to act accordingly. In other words, it was time to stop messing around. Well, it would be later; for the time being Eiiko was enjoying the high.

He blinked as a hand decorated with a number of fashion rings with a studded leather bracer around the wrist shoved a thin, paper-wrapped package onto the desk in front of him. Looking up, Eiiko found himself eye to eye with Gokudera Hayato.

"Best wishes," the silver-haired teen muttered, scowling in embarrassment before slouching off to his usual seal near the back of the class. His grin briefly widening, Eiiko stowed the present in his bag before any of the girls noticed it. Bad enough that he and Hayato already had fangirls; if they found out the two boys were exchanging birthday presents unnatural and terrifying assumptions might be made.

* * *

Eiiko loved birthdays, anyone's birthday, and made a point of at least offering his best wishes to the person whose special day it was. This determination to make the most of the occasion had been nurtured by the special parties his parents had put on for both him and his sister, but had only blossomed into the deliberate and determined acknowledgement of any and all birthdays of friends and acquaintances alike after his own disastrous train-wreck of a twelfth birthday.

Eiiko –who had at the time had considered himself to be Titus Marshal– did his best to pretend his twelfth birthday had not happened the way it did, but as with all experiences that do lasting damage to the psyche the event lurked in the back of his mind like a rake in long grass, lying in wait to ambush the unwary. Making sure he recognised and acknowledged the birthdays of absolutely everyone he knew was his way of coping, a safeguard against the horror that hid deep in his memory: the birthday that was forgotten.

* * *

When Titus Edwin Marshal, the new Viscount Haverhill had been eleven going on twelve, he had been placed in the custody of his uncle Horace, the Earl of Bury. Uncle Horace was a somewhat scholarly man with very little understanding of emotion and an obsession with fine art. He also owned a large house with a small staff that kept said house in order and made sure the meals were served regularly. While in his uncle's care Titus had been assigned a tutor who visited on weekdays to ensure he didn't fall behind in his studies, visited a physiotherapist about once a month to assess how the injuries to his hands were progressing and was otherwise left to his own devices day in and day out. His only saving grace was the computer and internet connection his aunt Florence had persuaded his uncle to allow him in order to keep in touch with his sister: without that means of communicating with his various friends both in Italy and elsewhere Titus would have gone stir-crazy within the first month. He lived for social interaction and being left alone in a big old house with only five staff members, none of whom were remotely personable, was to him a form of torture. Helene would have enjoyed it –she was introspective and a little obsessive that way– but Titus regarded his stay with the Earl his uncle as a prison sentence to be endured.

And endure it he did, his only solace the occasional visit to his aunt Florence and her brood of four, soon-to-be five children. Titus got on fairly well with his cousins, all of whom commiserated with his awful plight and helped him set up an account so they could play games together over the internet while he was back at his uncle's house. Titus still missed his sister terribly and felt the absence of his parents like an ache in his gut, but as the months passed the pain lessened and the regular emails he got detailing his sister's training, thoughts and silly banter help him miss her less. Her being on the other side of the planet in Japan meant that phone calls were few and far between, but he lived for those conversations. His sister was all he had left that was just his, rather than something that came with the Marshal family baggage attached. Yes, Titus knew his sister was technically only his half-sister, but that just made her even more exclusively his. The big, gloomy, groaning house with its antisocial staff and his absent, distant Earl of an uncle could never touch her.

Then October had come to an end and Titus had realised his birthday was coming up. He was rather looking forward to it really: Helene had already posted his present and he was rather hoping for a party with his cousins. But when the second of November came around Titus woke up to a mostly empty house, a note from his uncle stating that he was attending an auction in London and wouldn't be back until the following day and absolutely no post whatsoever. Crushed, the twelve-year-old had wandered back to his room to check his email; as it was the weekend he wouldn't even get to see his tutor, a rather nice history PhD student who treated him like a person rather than a nuisance.

To make matters worse however the phone line was down due to an early winter storm, so there was no internet. Feeling utterly abandoned, Titus had gone through the rest of the day in a fog of depression, only rousing himself when the maid hunted him down after dinner and informed him in irritated tones that his sister had called the emergency mobile line and wanted to talk to him. Titus had snatched the phone away from the middle-aged woman and cradled it to his ear as she left with a sniff, informing him that he'd 'better remember to put it back afterwards!' before closing the door sharply behind her.

Once alone again Titus had burst into floods of tears at the sound of his big sister's voice singing him 'Happy Birthday' over the phone and the whole sorry tale of the day had come out. In the end he did not return the mobile to its place in the back hall for almost three hours, Helene racking up a truly terrifying telephone bill to comfort and console him as best she could from the other side of the planet. Titus eventually went to bed comforted and awoke the next morning to a restored internet connection, dozens of emails wishing him happy birthday and a small mountain of envelopes and parcels on the breakfast table, which cheered him immensely. However he was never quite able to forget the horrible loneliness of being utterly overlooked, not even when he got a call from his eldest cousin informing him that aunt Florence had been gone into labour the evening before his birthday and had been worried about him almost as soon as she recovered from giving birth to her baby daughter.

On subsequent birthdays Titus was reunited with his big sister and despite moving to Japan to attend middle school again under an alias, do a university course and work at the same time Helene –now Setsume or Nasake–always made a big deal of his birthday just as his parents had done. Nonetheless the Anlgo-Japanese boy who answered to Eiiko felt compelled to do his best to safeguard everyone he knew –however casually– from the agony of an unacknowledged birthday. Only his parents' deaths had hurt more.

* * *

Because everything comes from somewhere and I wanted to show why Eiiko cared that it was Gokudera's birthday.


	25. Opportunity

_A wise man will make more opportunities than he finds._ Sir Francis Bacon (1561 – 1626).

* * *

Timoteo watched from across the room as the frighteningly self-possessed young Helene Marshal introduced herself to the dozen men and women who had either been selected or had volunteered to teach her control over her Dying Will Flames. The Vongola Nono had been honestly impressed by the teenager's mental acuity, family loyalty and willingness to compromise and had, after a multitude of private meetings and editing sessions, signed a contract between her and the entire Vongola Famiglia. The contract had nothing to do with her training; that was being supplied as repayment for her having saved the Cavallone heir and thereby prevented the outbreak of war between said Famiglia and the Vongola. The much debated contract with its codicils, conditions and terms was purely for the protection of Helene's family and associates.

Watching the seventeen-year-old with her red-streaked hair and icy eyes burning with Hyper Dying Will Flames, snowflakes dancing above her head as she verbally fenced with her prospective teachers, Timoteo remembered his own youth and training before he became Vongola Nono and wished either of his surviving sons had even half of her self-sacrificing nature and moral compass. Helene was unyielding in her belief that there were some lines that could not be crossed, some roads that it was better not to take and that some thoughts should never, ever be spoken aloud. Her adamant refusal to even contemplate certain options made the elderly Mafia boss feel his age acutely and wish he had a better choice of heirs. His legs, despite Brow Nie's repeated efforts, were not getting any better and he would soon have no choice but to retire regardless of the suitability of his successors. Federico was doing his best to learn, but the quiet, intellectual man was not at all charismatic and rather hesitant, neither of which were qualities that would help the Vongola to thrive. Quite the opposite in fact. Xanxus… well, the less said the better. Timoteo recognised that freezing the boy in Zero Point Breakthrough Flames was a temporary measure, but he could not bring himself to defrost the rage-filled teenager and explain in full why his youngest son could never become Vongola Decimo. Then there was Iemitsu, who had made himself ineligible upon becoming part of the CEDEF and Iemitsu's son Tsunayoshi, who was only eleven and didn't even know the Vongola existed. Hopefully Timoteo would never have to shatter that innocence.

It was in light of the deaths of his two primary heirs and the dubious suitability of those that remained that Timoteo had insisted on one of the clauses in Helene's contract. It was not a nice clause and one that made him feel a pang of guilt every time he met the eyes of the fierce, grief-stricken yet determinedly dutiful young woman to whom the entire Famiglia was indebted, but that could not be helped. The future of the Famiglia was on the line and if there was one thing Timoteo would willingly damn himself for, it was ensuring that the next generation of the Vongola would prosper. If it came to the worst then that clause would save the Famiglia, though no-one would thank him for it.

* * *

After an hour of light conversation Helene excused herself and left the room, forcing the would-be tutors to make conversation or otherwise entertain themselves. Timoteo watched the mixed group of applicants with a thoughtful eye: he had picked some of them, but others had come forward by themselves or been volunteered and those were the ones that interested him. Most interesting of all were the two Arcobaleno in the room, Lal Mirch of the CEDEF and Mammon of the Varia. Lal Mirch had likely been volunteered by Iemitsu, but Timoteo wasn't entirely sure how Mammon had come to be here. True, he was Varia and most of the Varia had thus far proved themselves to be extremely attached to Helene Marshal, but as far as he knew Mammon had never even met her before today and was not the type to allow others to pressure him into anything.

Helene re-entered the room and cleared her throat to attract the attention of her prospective teachers, a number of whom were starting to argue. "I have chosen my tutor; I would like to learn from Signor Mammon. My thanks to everyone else who offered their services."

There was some quiet grumbling but the room emptied of the unsuccessful candidates, leaving only Mammon, Helene, Timoteo and Coyote Nougat, his Storm Guardian, in the room.

"Why Mammon?" the Vongola Nono asked.

Helene turned to the Mist Arcobaleno. "Why did you offer to teach me, Mammon?"

The hooded and cloaked baby's response was prompt and blunt. "The Vongola owes you a great deal, so they are sure to pay your tutor accordingly. You are also wealthy in your own right, and would be willing to pay me for anything further you would like to be taught."

"And there you have it," Helene said softly. "Mammon will teach me anything I want to learn, regardless of the Vongola party line. The only limit on my learning is the one set by my budget, which you have agreed will be generous. Mammon will also not interfere in my private business, nor try to take advantage of me on behalf of the Vongola unless someone pays him to do so, and even then he will likely refrain in favour of informing me for a suitable fee. "

Mammon inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"How did you know to volunteer, Mammon?" Timoteo asked.

"Bel told me about Helene," the Illusionist said simply. "He mentioned she was clever, driven, very wealthy and that the Vongola owed her a favour."

Belphegor knew Mammon very well indeed to so clearly catch the venal Arcobaleno's interest.

"Very well," the Vongola Nono agreed, "but in order to meet the terms of the contract Helene will be moving to Japan. One of the conditions was that the Vongola would conceal her from the rest of the Mafia and keeping her here would be counter-productive." That condition was a very useful one, as it would also serve to limit her contact with the rest of the Varia as much as possible. In Japan, the other assassins could only visit in between jobs but if he kept her in Italy she would likely wind up living in their mansion.

Mammon simply nodded before vanishing as if he'd never been there. Timoteo turned back to Helene.

"Why him?" he repeated. Helene sat herself down in the chair opposite his, settling her cane across her lap.

"He truly has no ulterior motives," she said simply, the snowflakes above her head expanding their path to whirl around her whole body. "He does not care what I do with what I learn or whether I eventually ally myself to the Vongola, so long as I pay him for his services. He will teach me anything I want to learn and introduce me to new things that may interest me in the hope of getting more money out of me."

Timoteo had to concede the truth of her statement; she had Mammon down to a tee.

"Why not any of the others?" he tried, wanting to know why she had chosen the most personally difficult candidate as her tutor.

"They all had ulterior motives or were unsuitable," Helene replied promptly. "Lal Mirch did not want to be here and only showed up because her boss asked her to. Most of the others wanted to recruit me to their team or sought to curry favour with you. One just wanted to seduce me," she made a face, "and another wanted to use me as leverage against Squalo."

Timoteo blinked. He hadn't even considered that as a possibility.

"Squalo still loves me," Helene said flatly in response to his expression, "just as I still love him. We broke off the relationship because no matter what, to him I'm always going to come second to Xanxus. I have my pride and I refuse to be second in the heart of the man I love. However that doesn't mean either of us has stopped caring for the wellbeing of the other."

Timoteo nodded and apologised: it took great strength of heart to end a relationship before it went sour. Most people would have clung on and deluded themselves that it could be made to work; that Helene had not showed she could think clearly even when her emotions were involved, which gave him hope that she would not allow herself to be drawn into the internal unrest the Vongola was experiencing in the matter of choosing the next boss.

* * *

Helene is/was Mammon's student. This will indeed affect things further down the line.


	26. Family

_Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one._ Jane Howard (1935 - ).

* * *

Dino bounced nervously in place on the airstrip, waiting impatiently for his subordinates to collect the luggage from the private plane's hold so they could leave the airport. He hadn't seen his little cousin in over two years and could hardly wait to spend time with her again; he'd missed her terribly. His Elena had saved his life and, despite having repaid her in the eyes of the Mafia by handing over to her a number of lucrative businesses, Dino still felt indebted. Her parents were dead, her life upended and she'd been forced to bargain with the Vongola to maintain what freedom she had left, which wasn't all that much. The worst part however was that her contract with the Vongola had meant he couldn't visit her and hadn't even known where she was until he'd put together the fact that she was protecting the CEDEF leader's son and the knowledge that said son was the new heir Reborn was now training. As soon as he had confirmed that his old tutor was training Sawada Tsunayoshi in Namimori, Japan, Dino had called Reborn and begged to be able to visit. Reborn had agreed and told him to call Helene, as his cuginetta was the person responsible for maintaining order in Namimori.

Dino had been overjoyed to be able to tell his best friend that he was finally coming to visit and had immediately made plans to stay indefinitely, buying a large estate on the outskirts of the town for him and his immediate Famiglia to stay in and setting things up so he would not fall behind in business matters while he was in Japan. Now his father was dead Elena was the only person still living he considered close family and he wanted to have as much time as possible to catch up. Of course, he also wanted to get to know Reborn's new student, the prospective Vongola heir, so the longer he could remain in Namimori the better.

Of course, he was the Don of the Cavallone Famiglia now; had been in fact since his father died in hospital from the injuries incurred in the Carnevale Massacre. His father had barely lived long enough to assist Dino in choosing which businesses to give to Helene in thanks for saving the blond's life before handing over the reins of the Famiglia. On ascending to the position of tenth head of the Cavallone Famiglia Dino had discovered that, contrary to appearances, his father had not had a good head for business at all: despite being very good at dealing with people, the Cavallone Nono had been incapable of balancing a budget and had gotten the Famiglia severely into debt. Dino on the other hand was something of a maths wiz and had been given a lot of advice on financial management by Helene's late father, Hugo Marshal. Implementing those lessons, slimming down various family businesses and rearranging investments had enabled Dino to pull the family back into the black in just eighteen months after assuming control of the Famiglia and thereby cementing his position as the Mafia boss most admired and loved by his subordinates.

All these business obligations were part of what had prevented him from visiting his cousin any sooner, but Dino would have made the time for her regardless had been allowed to do more than just call her on her phone and email her. He hadn't even been allowed to send her birthday and Christmas presents, having to hand over the gifts to the CEDEF and trust them to deliver everything on time. This year however he intended to spend Helene's birthday with her and preferably Christmas as well and make up for his past absences by spending large amounts of his recently-acquired funds on her. Of course he knew he couldn't buy her friendship, but he did so love spending money on her: it was just so much fun!

* * *

As soon as the flashy car Romario had purchased to ferry Dino around in while they were in Japan stopped at the address Helene had given Dino shot out of the vehicle and up the front path. The house was set back from the road and screened from view by trees, a large garage with a motorbike outside slightly detached from the main building. The house was traditionally Japanese and on a single floor, if rather larger than the others on the street. Dino bounced up the path and rang the door bell, all but vibrating in eagerness to see his little cousin again.

The front door opened and Dino swept his cuginetta up into a fierce hug, stepping away from the front porch so he could swing her around a few times before setting her down on the ground again and kissing her.

"Elena! Cuginetta mia I've missed you so!" He announced, smiling goofily as he swept her off her feet again, held her tight and buried his face in the crook of her neck so he could drink in her unique scent of cedar, roses, apple and snow. She hugged him back just as fiercely, arms wrapping around his neck and face burrowing into his shoulder.

"Dino," she breathed, "what kept you?"

The tenth Cavallone boss chuckled and set his precious cousin back down on her front porch. "No-one would tell me where you'd gone, cara. Squalo wanted to, but apparently Nono forbade it."

"Damn contract," Helene muttered, hugging him again. "And damn Don Vongola, honouring the letter of the contract but not the spirit."

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?" Dino said brightly, stepping up onto the porch and slipping off his shoes.

"Yes, you are," his little cousin agreed with a radiant smile. "Come inside and sit down so we can catch up properly and you can introduce me to some of those new faces behind you who are looking after you for me."

Dino obeyed at once, not caring that some of his subordinates were chuckling at the sight of their boss being pulled into the building by a slender girl half a head shorter than he was. He'd missed his Elena terribly and honestly didn't care if he made a fool of himself so long as she was there. Family was precious, and despite having a truly massive Famiglia his Elena was the only person he considered a true relation rather than a responsibility.

* * *

Dino spent three whole days with Elena and Tito, who now went by Nasake and Eiiko. He also got to meet his cuginetta's ward Lambo, a five-year-old Bovino with a fondness for explosions and I-Pin, her four-year-old house-guest. Both children accepted that he was in Namimori to visit Reborn and was catching up with 'Nasake' because they used to go to school together. True, Lambo was a little jealous of his mamma spending time with someone other than him, but Helene solved the issue by having one or another of Dino's subordinates take the cow-themed boy to the park while she caught up with the Cavallone boss. However the time finally came for Dino to go and visit Reborn so the blond twenty-one-year-old kissed his little cousin goodbye as she left for school in the morning then let Romario drive him over to the Sawada household so he could spend the day catching up with his former tutor and meet the new Vongola heir.


	27. Beauty

_Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in itself, and is complete in itself; praise forms no part of it. So it is none the worse or the better for being praised._ Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121 AD – 180 AD).

* * *

Squalo watched out of the corner of his eye as Mammon ordered Helene through yet another set of strict exercises, testing her control, speed and dexterity while manipulating her unusual Flames. They'd been doing this since right after lunch and the swordsman was pretty sure her control over her abilities was significantly above his own. Then again, he actually had to focus in order to even call up his Dying Will; Helene's seemed to be stuck in the 'on' position, making control all the more imperative.

The Second Sword Emperor shifted in his seat and went back to cleaning his sword after two hours spent going over forms. He was in Japan on a mission and, since Mammon was training Helene out of one of the Varia's Japanese safe houses, visiting had been a no-brainer. However it was almost three months since Helene had been released from hospital and she had yet to allow her scars to show. Dino had voiced his concern regarding the invisible scars to Squalo shortly before the swordsman took this particular mission and the truth of the matter was that after that conversation, mission or not, Squalo would have taken the time to visit the only serious girlfriend he'd ever had. As the tenth Cavallone boss had put it, it wasn't her _having_ scars that was the problem, but that she was _hiding_ them so completely that not even the doctors were sure which of her injuries had left a permanent mark on her.

Squalo was a physical rather than an intellectual person but even he knew this was bad; burying problems only encouraged them to fester and dig themselves out of their graves at the most inconvenient of moments. Mammon knew it was bad as well; he was an illusionist and knowledge and control of the self was essential to his art. Hell, even Helene knew that ignoring an issue didn't make it go away but she wasn't letting her logic stop her from being irrational. Of course she was entitled to a little wilfulness: her parents had died, her brother had been placed in the guardianship of her uncle until she reached her eighteenth birthday and her grandmother had just recently passed away as well. Add to that her recent injuries, the likelihood of never regaining her full mobility and that she had been forbidden from meeting her Japanese relatives and Helene's reaction could be considered fairly mild, if unusually passive-aggressive. However Squalo knew that the sooner he got to the bottom of the problem the better it would be for everyone involved: Helene had been behaving oddly since the accident and, with her father dead, he was the only person in existence who could get away with poking at her until she cracked.

Helene finished the last exercise and Mammon granted her a few words of approval before ordering her to do a set of stretches and kata. His student occupied, the hooded Illusionist floated over to Squalo.

"I do not care what you do, where you do it or how long it takes, but get her to show you her scars," the baby said flatly as soon as he was out of Helene's earshot. "She has too many Flames for me to exhaust her to the point of dropping the façade without killing her outright and her control over her appearance is so ingrained that no matter what I make her do it never falters. I would be impressed if it wasn't eating away at her mind with every passing day."

Squalo finished wiping down his blade and stared over at the seventeen-year-old dressed in a hoodie and tracksuit trousers over on the other side of the gym, her body soaked in sweat and her ruddy hair falling out of the bun she had fastened it into after lunch. She looked so fragile now compared to before the accident, so careful of her footing with the limp she was still learning to compensate for and now had a much thinner, harder face. Her eyes had been permanently changed, burning with icy blue fire and her hair had lightened from red-lit black to a ruddy brown reminiscent of drying blood. He sighed.

"I'll corner her in the bathroom," the nineteen-year-old swordsman promised. "Don't wait around."

* * *

When Helene finally finished her stretches and was allowed to go and wash Squalo followed her, privately thankful for her partially Japanese upbringing that ensured she was fairly amenable to sharing the bathroom with other people. Of course, her upbringing had only desensitised her to being naked around other family members, but Dino's relentlessly tactile nature and insistence on seeing Helene as a member of his family had resulted in her becoming utterly unselfconscious around the new Cavallone boss as well. Squalo had been added to the mix later, but having himself been raised in such a way that made him fairly indifferent to sharing close quarters with people of all ages and both genders the silver-haired swordsman hadn't had a problem with it. In fact, even now he had difficulty remembering to lock the bathroom door when he was inside; a person's upbringing was a terribly insidious thing.

Of course after he'd started lusting after Helene he'd made a point of avoiding being around her when she was only half-dressed, partly because of the physical reaction to her he couldn't control but mostly because he'd had enough trouble keeping his hand off her already without adding the temptation of seeing her mostly naked with her own hands all over herself. The few occasions he hadn't been able to escape from had been nothing short of torture, however exquisite.

After he'd started dating her he'd got back into the habit of bathing with her, mostly because once he no longer had to keep his hand to himself, washing with Helene became a real experience to enjoy and savour. Getting to wash her had been extremely satisfying; having _h__er_ wash _him_ was even better. Helene had strong hands and nimble fingers and when she washed his hair it was all he could do not to melt into her and purr. Squalo's oath to not cut his hair until Xanxus became Vongola Decimo meant he had to spend a lot of time keeping his growing mane clean and in order, which was not easy considering he only had one hand. Helene however had turned the chore into a joy and the swordsman had never minded washing her hair in return even though it took him ages. The uninhibited way she responded to his touch had made bath time as delightful as it was dangerous, skirting along the very limits of his self control.

Squalo had dated Helene for a bit over a year, but they'd never actually had sex. Well, hadn't had intercourse; they'd done just about everything short of that though. That had been for two reasons: firstly, Helene was about two years younger than he was and despite being a very sensual person had baulked. Part of her reluctance was the odd fact that chemical contraceptives just did not work –for some bizarre reason– for people in her mother's family, making the physical process a lot riskier than it was for most couples, but most of it had been that she was sixteen and in her first relationship. Squalo had been patient and honestly hadn't minded too much, since she certainly didn't mind sexual contact despite her reluctance to take things to their natural conclusion. The second reason, the reason he hadn't pushed like he probably would otherwise have done, was the brief talk Helene's father had given him after she introduced Squalo to her parents as her boyfriend for the first time. Hugo Marshal, Viscount Haverhill had quietly taken Squalo aside, explained the bit about the utter futility of most kinds of contraceptives then added, in a calm, matter-of-fact kind of way, that if Squalo hurt Helene or got her pregnant he _would not like_ the consequences. Remembering that conversation still gave Squalo the chills, even though he knew the man was dead. While utterly non-specific, the threat had been very real and the swordsman had used the memory of it to cool his libido when his control hung by a thread and he was moments away from pinning his girlfriend to the nearest flat surface and fucking her until she screamed. It had been highly effective.

He had also had considerable experience with both dating and sex before and after his relationship with Helene, but Helene was the only girl he was still friends with, the only one he saw on a regular basis and the only one he wouldn't mind dating again, should circumstances change. Things' changing enough for their relationship to actually work was highly unlikely, but a guy could dream.

Helene dating him had brought her into closer contact with the Varia, which had further broken down her physical boundaries in a number of interesting ways. For example, she never had a problem stripping off in front of Lussuria regardless of his being an older guy she didn't consider family because Luss didn't see girls that way, so in Helene's head the Muay Thai specialist fitted into the 'female friend' box and was considered safe. Squalo tried not to think about that kind of thing too hard as he was certain it would melt his brain. The situation with Belphegor was similar but at the same time completely different: despite being a fourteen-year-old with all the raging hormones that came with puberty, Bel's brain was warped in such a way that he couldn't recognise anyone of either gender as attractive unless there was bloodshed involved, preferably theirs. In his mind killing was so closely entwined with pleasure that he couldn't even begin to comprehend how a person could engage in the latter without involving the former, so even though he understood the concept of sex in abstract terms the idea of it did nothing for him. He was similarly unmoved by nudity and was therefore 'safe' unless you happened to be bleeding, in which case the teen was mostly gender-indifferent. There had been a few interesting situations when various people –including Squalo– had come back from missions with nasty wounds and then had to fight off a very _interested_ Bel in order to get treated, but the younger teen's control was a little better now.

* * *

Squalo had bathed with Helene since the end of their relationship, but not since her injuries. He determined therefore that the best course of action was to behave as though nothing had changed since the last time they'd done this, which had been back in January. This was both easier and more difficult that it should have been, as a great many things _had_ changed since then. However Squalo Superbi was a proud man and refused to back down from a challenge, especially when he knew he was the only person with any chance of succeeding. So he followed Helene into the large bathroom with the four showerheads arranged around a corner at one end and the hot pool behind a screen at the other, locked the door behind them, shed his clothes and prosthetic hand and went looking for the soap.

Thankfully Helene reacted on automatic a few minutes later, taking the shampoo away from him before he could start on his hair and nudging him towards the plastic stool away from the spray so she could reach his head. Sitting down, Squalo leaned into her hands as she worked her magic on his scalp and the tension in his shoulders and neck faded away. Leaning his head back against her stomach, the one-handed swordsman glanced down at her right leg. She had removed the brace and left it with her clothes, but even with the scarring hidden it was clear that her knee was badly damaged: the muscles there just weren't the right shape, despite Lussuria's hard work to regenerate some of the tissue.

When Helene finished massaging in the shampoo Squalo got up to rinse out the suds, then sat down again so she could repeat her work with the conditioner. That done Squalo gently forced Helene to sit down and went to work on her hair one-handed, bracing the stump of his left wrist against her shoulder for leverage. Running his fingers over her scalp he could feel a number of fine, jagged scars running up the sides of her head; those scars were responsible for the locks of much redder hair that were scattered amongst the rest, like splashes of fresh blood amongst the old. While her scalp had not been badly enough burnt to prevent the hair from growing, the follicles had been damaged enough for her hair colour to have permanently changed. Before the Massacre Helene's colouring had given her a soft, lush look; the changes made her appearance brighter and harsher. Not that Squalo minded. She was no less beautiful now than she had been then and the scars he could feel under his fingers wouldn't change that.

* * *

By the time Squalo had finished with Helene's hair the girl was much more relaxed and slightly sleepy from the warmth and steam, so he steered her over to the pool and helped her into the water before getting in himself. Once settled, the nineteen-year-old decided he might as well go for broke and started what promised to be a very difficult conversation in his usual headlong fashion.

"So how many of your injuries have healed?"

Helene shuffled down lower into the water. "All the superficial ones; only my knee is still giving me trouble and Dr. Shamal says I will need to have another operation on it soon."

"How many of them have scarred permanently?"

Helene didn't answer, staring off sideways at the side of the bath furthest from Squalo.

"Look, piccola, I've got scars. Hell, I'm a hand short of a full set! I'm not such a hypocrite as to think any less of you for surviving," Squalo said forcefully, shuffling closer to her. "You're gorgeous and no amount of scarring is ever going to change that."

"You say that now," Helene muttered in English. Squalo promptly switched from Italian to English himself:

"Well, you're not exactly giving me much of a fucking chance to prove my sincerity, are you?"

Helene made an indistinct sound in her throat and stiffened as he wrapped his left arm around her waist, but gradually relaxed again as he did no more than lean his head against her shoulder.

"You know I love you, right?" Squalo murmured as quietly as he could in Italian. Dating Helene had been the scariest and most humbling experience of his entire life and looking back that year had changed him in ways he now rather liked, but at the time he had been caught between confusion, fury and terror more often than he enjoyed remembering. Loving her was totally different to his devotion to Xanxus and part of him hated that he was relieved that Helene hadn't made him choose between her and his boss, all but making the decision for him. If for nothing else, he would always be grateful to her for that.

"I know you care," Helene replied lowly in the same language.

Squalo turned his head and nuzzled her shoulder as his hand found a scar trailing down the top of her right arm. "I don't just care, piccola; I love you. Most of all for not pushing, letting me make my own choices in my own time and letting me keep my pride. So gracious, so kind, even when you have every right to lash out." He licked the scar he'd found across the top of her shoulder and her whole body shuddered. "My trust in you has never been misplaced. Won't you give me a chance?"

"Squalo, I _can't_," Helene whispered, tears glistening on her lashes as she screwed up her eyes and shivered. "_Please,_ Squalo?"

Squalo wasn't sure Helene even knew what it was she wanted him to do, so he took the initiative. "Well, if you won't show me your scars I'll just have to find them for myself," he rumbled, voice dropping an octave as he licked his way up an invisible line of smooth scar tissue behind her ear. The girl in his arms whimpered, but tellingly didn't try to get away. Feeling as smug as a cat with a bowl full of cream Squalo shifted around so he was kneeling in front of Helene and set to the task of hunting down every last scar.

By the time he was almost sure he'd found all the ones on her arms Helene was moaning under him and squirming so enticingly he had to lift her out of the water and lie her on the floor next to the tub so as to reach her legs without the risk of drowning her. By the time he'd finished with her legs and started in on her torso Squalo was hanging onto his control by his fingernails and slipping with every shiver and twitch and whimper of the lush, damp body under him. Then Helene crossed the line, hooked her thighs around his hips and yanked his body down into full contact with her own. With a growl Squalo bit down hard on the scar he'd been investigating and proceeded to demonstrate that self-control is finite and that certain actions have irreversible consequences. However when they were panting on the floor together, breathless, sticky and spent bodies still interlocked, Squalo noticed that the previously pristine skin under him was now crisscrossed with angry, pinkish scars. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked Helene in the eye:

"You _are_ beautiful, piccola. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

The small but radiant smile he got back meant he would never, ever feel even the slightest smidgeon of guilt for having sex with her, no matter what the consequences.

* * *

I like Squalo. He's fun to write.


	28. Manners

_Manners maketh man._ William of Wykeham (1324 – 1404).

* * *

Nasake knelt quietly in the reception area of the Spartan yet elegant tea room she'd rented for the upcoming meeting with the leader of the Momokyokai Yakuza, going over in her mind what she'd learnt of the encounter from Dino, the NDC member she'd sent to investigate and the letter she'd been sent requesting the encounter. According to Dino, Reborn had conned him into helping direct Hayato and Takeshi to the Momokyokai, where the two prospective Guardians had beaten up all the lower ranking kyodai. After Dino and Tsuna had arrived at the gumi the higher ranking thugs had shown up and Dino had politely apologised for the misunderstanding and offered to pay for the damages. The local oyabun had rudely turned down the offer and the gumi had attacked them, only to be defeated by Tsuna in Dying Will Mode assisted by his Famiglia and Dino himself.

The evidence collected by Murata Yoshimasa, an NDC member whose parents owned a bar frequented by the Yaks, supported Dino's story. The lower ranking kyodai had all been there bemoaning their defeat at the hands of a bunch of wimps and favouring various injuries. The letter Nasake had received however stated that they had been targeted and beaten up as part of an attempted takeover, which was a lie. She hated liars. The purpose of this meeting was to ensure the Momokyokai oyabun never, ever so much as considered lying to her ever again. Not that he knew that yet.

The local boss and his two minions looked a little uncomfortable in the traditional outfits and their short hair and shaven heads made them look out of place and uncouth. This was deliberate on Nasake's part: it was a great honour to be served formal tea as part of a meeting, so they could not refuse. However this setting was not one where her guests were at all comfortable, making her decision somewhat disrespectful. Nasake was fine with that; liars deserved to be disrespected. Especially those who lied so badly.

* * *

Nasake went through the formal tea ceremony with impeccable timing and grace, speaking formally and appropriately at the times when conversation was necessary and politely ignoring every stumble and mistake made by her guests. Of course, her guests could tell when they made mistakes because she acted as though she hadn't heard or seen what they just did by averting her eyes from them, making them more and more uncomfortable. It was rather obvious of her and more than just a little unkind of her, but she was feeling vindictive.

Once the ceremony was over and her guests were thoroughly unnerved and wrong-footed, Nasake carefully cleaned and set aside the utensils so that the real conversation could begin. She was representing Kyoya here, being the one who dealt with formal disputes and petitions made to the NDC, and had a very specific agenda in mind. Once she'd informed the violent teenager that the Yaks were lying her orders had been to 'deal with them'; namely, to utterly crush the boss of the gumi while Kyoya bit the underlings to death. As she was representing the NDC Nasake wasn't alone: Sakura Harumi was just on the other side of one of the walls in a hidden observation gallery, watching and learning with avid interest while Murata Yoshimasa kept guard just outside the guest entrance. With all this in mind, Nasake opened the meeting.

"Would you please relate to me in your own words what occurred on the morning in question?"

The following statement was a genuine disgrace, inconsistent with both the facts and the letter of protest sent just two days previously. Nasake listened quietly until the oyabun ran out of words, then launched a counter-attack.

"I'm afraid the NDC can do nothing to rectify this situation, for three very good reasons: first of all we have physical evidence to the contrary of what you have just claimed was the truth, meaning you are attempting to take advantage of our goodwill" –not that goodwill was particularly abundant with the NDC– "secondly Cavallone-san is in Namimori as a guest of the NDC and has assured us he no interest in expanding his influence here. Thirdly, Cavallone-san has already offered you recompense for the damages suffered, but you turned him down indicating there are no damages that require payment. Therefore you are demanding funds and vengeance without cause." Nasake paused, eyes boring into the now trembling Yakuza boss. "False witness is a serious crime and no-one will fault the NDC for taking steps to ensure those guilty will not transgress again. Hibari-dono is with your gumi now, laying down the law." She smiled, the expression lacking any kind of warmth. "As for you three…"

The Momokyokai oyabun leapt to his feet only to be felled by Murata, who had entered the room while Nasake held the Yaks attention and waited behind them for the appropriate moment. The two minions were uncertain without their boss to direct things and were swiftly subdued. Two more NDC members arrived to remove the unconscious thugs and take them away to be punished. Two more NDC members arrived to remove the unconscious thugs and take them away to be punished.

Tetsuya had been… amused at the penalty Nasake had suggested, not least because it was one his men would enjoy enforcing. The two minions would get away with nothing worse than a severe beating, but the deceitful oyabun would have the munashii kanji tattooed on him somewhere painful as a lasting reminder of his attempt to play the NDC false. Eriguchi Takao, the NDC's budding tattoo artist, would enjoy the oyabun's pain as he carefully poked the design into the man's skin. Eriguchi was learning traditional Japanese techniques in addition to the modern ones as part of his apprenticeship with his uncle and was keen to have someone to practice his skills on. Nasake would likely be receiving a fruit basket or a nice wall hanging sometime in the next few days from the intense and needle-loving sadist.

Her part in the scheme complete, Nasake bid goodbye to Tetsuya and the lower ranking NDC members, got changed and offered Harumi a lift back to her house. Her classmate accepted so the two of them got onto Nasake's motorbike and left the scene, both girls rather pleased with how things had turned out. Nasake was training Harumi-chan to take over her duties with the NDC when the time eventually came for her to leave Namimori; the tomboyish teenager got on rather well with those NDC members she'd come into contact with, had a good head for money and was a real computer wiz. All Nasake had to do was teach her kōhai about the formalities associated with negotiation and how to slip in and out of the various levels of society like she belonged in every one of them and the fifteen-year-old would be able to take over the undercover nineteen-year-old's duties without so much as a hiccup.

She knew she would not be able to stay in Namimori forever, so it was best to plan for the inevitable.

* * *

I felt the NDC needed a little more screentime. Plus, fallout from Dino and Tsuna's Yak encounter.


	29. Involvement

_Do you know the difference between involvement and commitment? Think of ham and eggs. The chicken is involved; the pig is committed._ Martina Navratilova (1956 - ).

* * *

Squalo lay in the dark, arms wrapped around Helene, pondering the future. A whole year had passed since Helene had been shipped off to Japan for training with Mammon and a lot had changed in that time. For one, he'd had sex with his ex-girlfriend and finally seen her scars. For another she'd proved something of a prodigy in controlling and using her Dying Will Flames, to the point that Mammon had only the other day pronounced her apprenticeship over: today the Mist Arcobaleno would be getting in touch with Nono and seeing where the old man wanted her hidden.

There was a grunt from the other side of the bed as Titus rolled over, snuggling further into his sister's back. One of the unexpected side-effects of Helene's perpetual Flames was that they lowered the ambient temperature by at least eight degrees Celsius whenever she wasn't consciously suppressing them. This was fine in summer –enjoyable even– but the rest of the year round it meant that people spending the night within fifty meters of her had two choices: either pile on enough blankets to keep a person warm through an arctic blizzard or crawl into bed with her, since the effect was reversed within a three meter radius. For Squalo the matter had never been in question; Helene was a gorgeous and delightfully unselfconscious girl and no sane man would ever turn down the opportunity to snuggle up to a beautiful woman. Titus, being her brother, hadn't minded either and likely would have crawled into bed with her regardless; his time in his uncle's custody had left him quiet, clingy and terribly cynical of everyone except his sister.

Mammon, being a stubborn bastard, had initially tried everything possible to counter this unexpected disadvantage from localised heating to waking his student up each time the temperature dropped, but he had soon learnt that the only way to prevent the air temperature from dropping was to hermetically seal the area she was sleeping in. The illusionist had then abandoned all pretence of propriety and claimed a place at the foot of her bed to sleep on. He wasn't there currently, having got up early to call Italy regarding the impending change in arrangements, but he had been last night and would be tonight.

Lussuria and Belphegor had each taken the time to visit Helene during her exile. Squalo had not been present for those visits, but Helene's emails had painted an entertaining picture of what had occurred each time. Lussuria had, as expected, not batted an eyelash at having to spend the night in the same room as the teenage girl, but Bel had spent two nights huddled under a mountain of blankets in the guest room when he visited before finally admitting defeat and joining the crush in the main bedroom. Squalo actually had a picture that had been taken with Titus' phone of the bloodthirsty prince sprawled out across half the bed, face buried in the pillow and one arm curled around Helene's waist. Considering Bel saw Helene as someone somewhere between a colleague and a rival, it was amusing to see him so defenceless and trusting next to her.

Squalo suspected she was the closest thing Bel had to a friend who honestly didn't care one way or the other that his idea of a good time was to paint the walls with the blood of those who irritated him. She acted around him the same way as she did around her brother, leading the swordsman to suspect she'd adopted the bloodthirsty little psycho. _I'm a terrible influence._

Then Helene's eyes opened, the air temperature dropped from drowsily warm to normal and it was time to get up.

* * *

That evening after dinner Helene hunted him down, finding him sat on the veranda watching the sun set.

"Nono's turning over my care to Iemitsu," she said quietly, snuggling into his side and resting her head against his shoulder. Squalo automatically wrapped his arm around her and inhaled the scent of her hair. "He wants me to keep an eye on his son."

"He had a son?" Squalo'd never seen any evidence that the head of the CEDEF was even married, let alone that he had reproduced.

"That's what I said," Helene muttered, irony tingeing her words. "He's a neglectful shit, just like his boss."

Squalo smiled into her hair. He had told Helene all about Xanxus and while she didn't agree with his boss' choice of actions she did agree he had cause. According to her Timoteo had failed Xanxus as a father and by freezing him in Flames was further failing him with every day that passed. She had made it clear that she did not care herself who ran the Vongola so long as those who were not involved were not made to suffer, but she did feel that Xanxus should be allowed to live the life he chose for himself.

"Where are you going then?" Squalo asked.

"Namimori," Helene whispered. "He's placing the town under my jurisdiction, since it was where Primo retired to and the land there still belongs to the Vongola. Several of the businesses Dino gave me are there too, since it's literally the only place in Japan where the Mafia openly own more than just a safe house." She sighed. "Iemitsu's brat's just twelve and he wants constant surveillance, so I have to go back to school."

"But you've enrolled in a University course," Squalo pointed out, puzzled. "How are you supposed to do both?"

"He doesn't care," Helene grumbled. "I'll have to do the course over the internet in my free time. Not that I'll have much, what with managing the businesses and looking after my otouto. If it weren't for the fact that Titus is the same age as the Sawada boy I'd have to pass myself off as twelve rather than fourteen."

"But you're eighteen!" Squalo protested hotly. "You shouldn't have to waste your life looking after a snotty little mafia brat!"

"Oh, it's worse than that," Helene said morbidly. "My new charge doesn't even know his father is mafia, let alone Vongola, and I'm not allowed to give the game away."

"You have to protect him without him knowing?" Squalo repeated incredulously. "Iemitsu's making you work twice as hard just to keep his snivelling little civilian son in the dark? VOOI! What a bastard!"

"I signed the contract, Squalo," Helene sighed, leaning in closer and wrapping his arm around her, "hell I helped write the damn thing. Now I have to live with the consequences. One of which is that you aren't allowed to visit me except on Vongola business."

Squalo abruptly dragged Helene into his lap and took deep calming breaths, resting his forehead against hers. The person he wanted so badly to shout at wasn't here. "You are very dear to me, piccola," he murmured hoarsely once his temper was back under control. "I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too," Helene agreed softly, a faint shuddering in her body betraying the tears soaking into his shirt. "But until the time comes when either you _can_ visit or I get to move, I've got something to keep you busy."

"Oh? What kind of thing?" Squalo inquired gently, petting her hair.

"You said Nono froze Xanxus with Zero Point Breakthrough Flames created by that staff of his," the girl huddled in his lap murmured, face buried in his neck and voice so soft he could barely hear it. "That suggests that, rather than just needing any old Flames to defrost him, you need Vongola Flames. Are there any more Vongola rings, or do Nono and the Guardians have the only set?"

Squalo stilled as the full import of her words exploded in his mind, opening whole new avenues of inquiry. This was it; _this_ was the answer. He hugged her tightly. "I owe you _everything_ for this, piccola," he whispered fiercely. "Thank-you!"

"You don't owe me anything, Squalo, It's just a theory," Helene demurred, eyes closed. "Wait until you can prove it one way or the other before thanking me, hm?"

"I will, and then we'll be seeing each-other; got that?" Squalo told her, feeling all of a sudden much more hopeful about the whole situation.

"Uh-huh. Promise me."

"I promise." Squalo assured her. He was totally committed to Xanxus but tonight had given him hope that Helene didn't mind being just a little bit involved as well.

* * *

This is pretty much the end of the flashbacks, though there may be one or two more every now and then. More of Squalo and Helene, as people seem to like them...


	30. Giving

_It is more blessed to give than to receive._ Book of Acts chapter 20 v. 35.

* * *

Dino was, well, not precisely _unhappy_ about Tsuna being in hospital, but not pleased eitherl. True his injury had been a terrible accident after Enzo fell into a well, but being hospitalised was an experience that would have come sooner or later as Reborn's student and at least this would give his otouto a chance to experience all that was involved with relatively little risk. Elena –assisted by the pervasive influence of Hibari Kyoya– ruled Namimori with an iron fist and Tsuna would come to no harm. The Cavallone Decimo did regret that he had been party to Tsuna's injury, but on the other hand the Vongola heir's incapacitation gave the blond an opportunity to spend quality time with his cuginetta not that the winter holidays had begun.

Dino found it a personal affront that Christmas did not exist as a public holiday in Japan, but before he really got into the spirit of the season there was Elena's –Nasake's, whatever–birthday to celebrate in a week's time. Since it was her twentieth and the first one in three years he'd get to spend with her he had every intention of going all-out. He'd noticed, for example, that her wardrobe was limited to school uniforms and barely half-a-dozen other outfits, all of them loose, concealing and nondescript. Yes, she had a very nice kimono collection, but they were for more formal occasions rather than wearing every day. Thus Dino had decided that, for his little cousin's birthday, he would take her shopping and buy her lots and lots of new clothes. He'd have to buy her underwear as well, of course; he'd actually –briefly– had a girlfriend since Elena'd been exiled to Japan and had learnt a lot about _why_ girls liked pretty underthings. Naturally Dino didn't see his cuginetta that way at all –she was the closest thing he had to a baby sister– but she was a girl and therefore deserved to have whatever pretty things she wanted. Lots and lots of all manner of pretty things, money no object.

* * *

Wanting to spend money on Elena was easy; actually getting her to go along with his plans was rather more difficult. Dino first caught Lambo and I-Pin alone and explained that her birthday was coming up, then persuaded his cuginetta to let the two kids stay overnight at the Sawada family home for two days. Dino then spent the night at his cuginetta's –curling up against her back in her big double bed due to the Flame-induced temperature fluctuations– and dragged her out bright and early the next morning so there would be time for Romario to drive them both out to all the shops within half an hour's drive of Namimori and still have a few hours left to have a fitting with his personal bespoke tailor. He'd arranged for the man to fly over from Italy during the night, so by mid-afternoon everything should be properly set up for Elena to have a proper session. Of course for dresses his cuginetta really needed to see a modiste, but Dino recognised _that_ was outside his area of expertise. While she lived in Italy Elena had allowed Lussuria to guide her choice of formalwear, so perhaps Dino could call him and ask. It wouldn't hurt.

Elena was initially rather unenthusiastic about whole shopping thing but after about half an hour she entered into the swing of things and Dino was soon handing over his Platinum card, depleting his accounts of vast quantities of money and passing more and more bags to his bodyguards to carry. His cuginetta insisted on bringing everything with them from one shop to the next, ostensibly to ensure things matched and that she didn't wind up with anything she couldn't wear, but the twenty-one-year-old suspected it was partly to tease him. He didn't mind; Elena was happy, happier than he'd seen her in weeks. He'd realised around noon that this was the first time she'd been able to go shopping for clothes since ditching the leg brace and taken it as a sign that he should try and persuade her to buy more formfitting trousers. She'd acquiesced with a laugh and allowed him to drag her into a specialist leather store where they'd both had incredible fun trying on all sorts of things. Dino hadn't been allowed to see what she'd eventually decided to buy, but he'd seen her in all sorts of things he wasn't sure he'd want her to be seen wearing in public; people wouldn't be able to stop staring and if Squalo were there he would certainly make a point of killing everyone who dared so much as glance in her direction.

By two o'clock Dino was sure he'd unleashed a monster but was able to persuade Elena that it was time to stop for lunch, escorting her to a very fancy Vietnamese restaurant he'd visited a week previously. His cuginetta liked Vietnamese food a great deal. They spent almost an hour there before Elena finally allowed Dino's men to take most of her purchases back to his house. Their retinue severely depleted, Dino allowed himself to be dragged into a lingerie shop. Yes, he was sure this would be the most painful part of the entire day, but he had done this to himself and there was nobody else on the planet he trusted to do this right. Well, other than Lussuria, but the Muay Thai specialist was, like Squalo and the rest of the Varia, banned from visiting Namimori save on Vongola business and shopping didn't count as an emergency only the Varia could deal with.

It was nearly five by the time Elena decided she was shopped out and Dino was down to two bodyguards, both of whom were replacements who had arrived just after lunch; Romario was back at Dino's mansion organising dinner and ensuring the tailor had everything he needed. Elena snuggled into Dino's side in the back of his sleek sports car as his men drove them back to the house, where his cuginetta and all of her shopping were commandeered by the tailor's assistants and hustled off somewhere for proper fittings. Dino ambled into the study, collapsed on the sofa and called for a stiff drink. He needed one.

* * *

In addition to making him critique a staggering number of different outfits and fetch and carry for her, Elena had also taken the time in between trying on slinky underwear to show Dino her scars. The Cavallone boss had been overwhelmingly relieved to see how well the damage had healed; the flat, spiky translucent marks were a far cry from the livid, seeping wounds he remembered from that terrible February evening all those years ago and still saw in his nightmares from time to time. After that Dino had perhaps pushed his luck by insisting that she make sure to buy garments that looked as good with the scars showing as when she was hiding them, but Elena had not done more than occasionally roll her eyes at him. Now that the adrenaline of the shopping frenzy had worn off he recognised that it could have gone very badly indeed; instead he was just several thousand Euros poorer than he had been on leaving her house this morning.

Sipping the glass of grappa one of his men had brought him Dino fished out his cell phone and rang Lussuria. He rarely ever used the man's private number –indeed, this was only the second time he'd called it since being given it– but this seemed like the kind of thing the man would enjoy hearing about. Plus he could get some advice about finding a proper modiste for his little cousin.

* * *

Dino is sweet, if a little foolhardy. He really does love her though.


	31. Indifference

_The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that's the essence of inhumanity._ George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950).

* * *

Belphegor lay back in the comfortable seat in the private Vongola jet, considering thoughtfully the sequence of events that had led to him being dispatched to Namimori. Considering the Vongola Nono had put a great deal of effort into keeping them away from Japan in general and Namimori in particular for the past eighteen months, it seemed a little odd that the head of the CEDEF would just agree to let Prince the Ripper of all people supervise the agreed arms shipment, but Bel was sure Lussuria had something to do with it. The flamboyant Muay Thai specialist had gotten a bee in his bonnet recently and when he heard about the arms shipment being put together for the Baronetess the short-sighted martial artist had leapt into action. Bel wasn't entirely sure of the details, but events had gone something like this:

Lussuria had received a phone call ten days ago that had sent him on a wild shopping spree and making demands of various fashionistas. Then he had spent the next day on the computer.

Then Squalo had shown up at the Varia mansion almost dancing with delight due to a breakthrough regarding Xanxus. Bel would have thought a breakthrough was a good thing, except that Mammon had been angry and Squalo's mood had promptly plummeted. Lussuria had known what the problem was and explained it: Helene had provided invaluable information to them that meant they could free Xanxus, but she wasn't allowed to take sides in internal Vongola matters; her contract forbade it and the penalties were rather dire. After reading a copy Mammon had found Bel had agreed that the penalties were NOT something Helene should have to deal with but couldn't think of any way they could be avoided. The next few days had been tense.

Mammon however noticed out loud that Helene needed more weaponry now that Namimori was becoming a focus of Mafia activity and Lussuria had gone a bit mad hugging everyone then dashed off to call the head of the CEDEF. Bel had been irritable and jumpy at the sudden drop in tension and hadn't really been suspicious of Luss' suggestion he go blow off some steam in town until eleven dead bodies later. Nobody had commented, but Bel had noticed the rest of the Vongola giving him a slightly wider birth than usual. Not that he cared.

Then, five days ago, Lussuria had announced that the Varia had been charged with properly arming Baronetess Helene Marshal and explained that providing a good variety of weaponry she was familiar with, ensuring she could protect herself and had enough ammunition to last her through a few minor wars would be payment enough for the information she'd given them. Squalo had thrown himself into the task with a vengeance and Bel himself had made sure the shipment included a generous selection of knives. Mammon had created the shipment list, both versions of it: supposedly the Varia would be reimbursed, so the 'official' list only contained the bare bones of the shipment. Most of the items included were hidden behind illusions and on a second, more comprehensive shipment list.

Bel had expected Squalo would be sent to deliver the goods; he was closest to her after all. If not Squalo, Lussuria was her friend too and Mammon had been her tutor. However Bel had been sent, possibly because his birthday was coming up and he hadn't been able to eat sushi since Helene had moved to Namimori –Yamamoto's Sushi Bar was the best in Japan and maybe even the world– but he'd been handed a mission to do afterwards, so Lussuria had probably insinuated he was bored. Which he had been, but not _that_ bored. Yet.

When asked, Lussuria had said something about Helene being undercover in middle school and Bel being less conspicuous, which was a laugh because Bel was a _prince_ and royalty is not inconspicuous at all.

Which all boiled down to Bel being on the twelve-hour flight to Japan two days before his birthday with enough weapons to end a major war, several suitcases full of birthday presents for Helene and a scorched-earth mission in Hokkaido for later in the week.

* * *

Bel landed in Namimori early in the evening, ordered the flight staff to load the 'luggage' into the generously sized van waiting on the runway, got into the sleek car waiting next to the van and told the driver to take him to 'Fukurōsu-san'. Bel didn't think much of the alias, but apparently Iemitsu had insisted and as names went it was fairly straightforward. Once the car arrived at the house Bel got out, ordered the driver to go and make sure the luggage arrived then sauntered up the front path to ring on the doorbell.

When the door opened Bel grinned cheerfully at the chick he would always think of as 'Squ-sempai's girl' and wished her happy birthday. Her surprise was gratifying, as was her delight. Here was someone who really appreciated royalty. After being welcomed inside and given a drink he let her herd him onto the couch while she put to bed the kids she had been put in charge of. Bel supposed they were lucky Iemitsu hadn't made Helene his son's guardian; then again, the man was a fool for thinking ignorance carried any measure of safety.

Helene came back just in time to answer the door to the luggage and, once the men were gone, Bel handed her the birthday presents he'd been made bearer of. They turned out to be designer dresses from Lussuria and a token for the installation of a massive fish tank from Squalo. Bel was slightly puzzled by the fish tank thing until Helene explained that she'd told the loud sword-user that she wanted a pet, but needed one she could keep in a cage. Apparently Squalo had arranged for her to be given some piranhas.

"It was really good of you to come and visit me, hiko," Helene said brightly after the presents were tidied away.

"Di niente, contessa," Bel drawled.

Helene froze at his words, the stillness not rabbit-in-the-headlights but snake-about-to-strike, telling him his educated guess had been bang on the money.

"I didn't tell anyone, contessa," he assured her with an even toothier grin than usual, "and I doubt anyone in the Vongola will be able to find it unless they're willing to do what I did and spend four years working out your family tree. I only did it because I wanted to know exactly how blue your blood was. Two princes and a king is nothing to sneeze at, contessa."

"Will you tell anyone?"

"Nah. Why should I?" Bel said easily. "I don't care that you've played them all for fools; royalty is above such paltry things and you're royal enough to count."

Helene relaxed slightly. "Thank-you, hiko. I'd prefer it if you stuck to my current title though; my family hasn't used the old one since the French Revolution, for all it is technically still valid."

"As you wish, baronetessa," Bel shrugged. He didn't care either way, though he thought it a hoot that the girl Squalo still loved so much was the Contessa Vendicare.

* * *

Bel spent the night at Helene's house and slept in due to severe jetlag, waking up shortly after lunch. He spent the afternoon sparing with Titus while Helene was watching the kids. He and the slightly younger boy had gotten off to a slightly rough start due to a few misunderstandings, which had resulted in Bel breaking Titus' arm and Helene pinning Bel to a wall with his own knives in retaliation. They'd managed fine since then though and Titus was respectful without being boring so he was fun to mess around with. The teen was also getting very good with his sword, which made sparring more interesting than he'd thought it would be.

When dinner time came around Bel cornered Helene and told her he was taking her out for sushi; Titus could feed the brats just fine without her. Helene bowed graciously to the inevitable and went to change into one of the gowns Lussuria had given her. When she emerged from the bedroom with her hair up wearing a slinky gown which left most of her back bare Bel decided to push his luck a little:

"What about the scars?"

"Bel," Helene said warningly.

"I know you can fiddle things so no-one will recognise you," Prince the Ripper challenged her, "and you know I don't care one way or the other." Which was nothing but the truth.

There was a pause, then Bel was gifted with the sight of the multitude of spidery white lines carved across her flesh. The young genius' eyes widened behind his hair; he'd never realised it before, but scars were almost as beautiful as bleeding wounds. Scars showed where wounds had been and that the bearer was strong, strong enough to survive all that damage.

He finally realised what Squalo saw in her.

He held out a hand. "Shall we, baronetessa?"

She took his hand gracefully. "Lead on, hiko."

* * *

Bel is interesting, but difficult to write. I trust this satisfies...


	32. Armed

_Though loaded firearms were strictly forbidden at St Trinian's to all but Sixth-Formers… one or two of them carried automatics acquired in the holidays, generally the gift of some indulgent relative._ Ronald W F Searle (1920 - ) from 'The Terror of St Trinian's'.

* * *

On the morning before her Varia guest left for Hokkaido to carry out his mission Helene let Lambo and I-Pin go out with Haru, then prepared a fancy Italian breakfast for Bel and set about the monumental task of distributing her new armoury's-worth of weapons about the house. Thankfully Squalo and Lussuria had thought ahead enough to include furniture-like items in the shipment for her to store things in, or she would have been reduced to stacking the storage boxes along walls and disguising them with tablecloths. While the Police made a point of ringing politely on the doorbell when they visited and kept everything exquisitely polite, that was no excuse for her not to hide everything as professionally as possible to avoid unecessary conflict.

By the time Bel dragged himself out of bed, drawn by the smell of freshly baked homemade Italian brioche spreading from the rack in the kitchen and the promise of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and thick enough to eat with a spoon, Helene had replaced the coffee table in the main room with a large, steel-lined trunk with faux drawers, a hinged lid and biometric lock to prevent people other than her getting at the two pairs of light machine guns and submachine guns plus ammunition stored within. A detachable side panel at one end concealed six semi-automatic pistols with ammunition, while the other held flash grenades and a dozen bayonet knives; everything a girl needed to fend off a determined assault on her front room. While she felt naginata and tessen were more graceful and elegant weapons that did _not_ mean she didn't know how to shoot. She was in fact a crack shot with everything from a handgun up to a sniper rifle but did not enjoy using them at all. There was no style, no honour and no beauty in guns that could compare with her blades. Even her kaiken was attractive and the thin, sharp blades concealed within the kanzashi Kyoya had given her for her latest birthday were far more to her taste than the matte black firearms concealed within her new coffee table.

Helene took a moment to make Bel some hot chocolate and lay out a selection of breakfast biscuits for him then went back to her tidying. She had already installed a few steel-lined cabinets among her kitchen cupboards so loading them was fairly simple: another submachine gun, a couple of good-quality marksman rifles to provide more accurate fire than the machine guns were capable of, a variety of grenades and a broad selection of throwing blades of various shapes, sizes and weights. There was a whole shelf's-worth of the small, hilt-less knives Bel himself favoured in a drawer; the lines of sight from that corner of the kitchen did not include any windows but had good access to the door to the main room. The weaponry cupboards were secured with discreet biometric locks, each having its own little power source. Being unable to get hold of your weapons because the power was out was not something Helene ever intended to experience. The knife drawer and cupboard were secured with a simple child-proof lock; Lambo and I-Pin both knew how to handle knives and the catch would prevent nosy guests from prying. To further perpetrate the illusion she had added a child-proof lock to the cupboard containing various solvents and cleaning products, though to be honest most of the liquids in there had been bought for their utility in improvised explosives rather than cleaning; around the house Helene preferred using spirit vinegar, bicarbonate of soda and other natural substances. Of course caustic soda was fairly natural and delightfully dangerous, but that was life for you.

She finished off the kitchen with a few more knives and non-lethal grenades secured under the table and hidden by the boards connecting the legs underneath the top, then went to deal with the bathroom, which was arguably the hardest room to equip.

* * *

Helene, being a paranoid soul, had already placed weapons in the bathroom as it was the only place in the house where she didn't wear her kaiken. Working on the principle that anyone ambushing her in the bathroom _deserved_ overkill, Helene had three easily opened wall panels in the shower area each containing a few throwing knives and a wide, shallow floor compartment on the far side of the sunken bath which contained the submachine gun she'd inherited from her father, who had been no fool for all his supposed ignorance of most things Mafia. Helene replaced the knives with most of the set she'd been given by Bel, setting the dozens of stainless steel blades in rubber casings which fitted snugly into the compartments. Each compartment opened via a mechanical switch with the wall-mounted soap-dishes as a trigger: lift the soap-dish and the compartment dropped open.

The floor compartment had more room, so she added another submachine gun, more ammunition, half-a-dozen short swords –a mix of kodachi and cutlasses– plus a trio of throwing axes. Bel, who had followed her, was amused and impressed, more so when she told him that all the walls of the house were reinforced to stop small arms fire; a rifle shot would go through a few walls but pistol and submachine gun fire would not.

Bathroom fortified to her satisfaction, Helene concealed semi-automatic pistols plus ammunition and blades of varying sizes in laundry cupboards and brackets on the underside of desks, placed the very classy sniper rifle with its ammunition just inside the entrance to the loft –the tiny attic window was the only place it could sensibly be put to use– and hid the C4 and various detonators in a nondescript box amongst her brother's computer equipment. The remaining loose knives and longer blades she fitted in the main bedroom, hiding the elegant katana behind the headboard alongside her spare naginata and concealing the knives inside the bed base at regular intervals so they could be reached while lying both on and underneath the frame. A few more semi-automatics plus ammunition went into the wardrobe, under the tops of the bedside tables –the fronts were decorated with faux-drawers to account for the increased depth– and behind one of the pictures hanging on the wall. The last few boxes and their contents would go to her various businesses and discreetly lent to NDC members whom Kyoya judged competent on a case-by-case basis.

* * *

There was another box of more exotic weapons in addition to the standard Mafia arsenal, but the axes, swords, and other armaments contained within were all antiques and would be displayed on the walls in the main room. True, they were sharp and perfectly usable antiques, but their age meant she didn't need to hide them from official scrutiny and Squalo had included the necessary paperwork. Helene was particularly enamoured of the beautiful pair of scimitars and the exquisite Kamakura-era daishō set with its own stand and the original mounting, which had to be worth more than her entire house and everything in it, that he had probably taken as a trophy after killing its original owner. After consulting the paperwork she learnt the daitō was a Masamune, making it more valuable than her entire Namimori business portfolio, which was a shock. The other two katana in the box were Muramasa blades, less valuable but no less beautiful and likely much sharper. Helene did not subscribe to any of the superstitions regarding Muramasa blades; as far as she was concerned they were simply very sharp and therefore to be treated with all the respect due to any live weapon.

The last box contained bows. An unstrung reflex bow plus accessories, a modern crossbow, an easily concealable set of pistol crossbows with steel darts, a Mongol-style bow and Yumi for her wall –with arrows– and a modern hunting bow for competitions. That final item and the modern crossbow came with proper licences but the pistol crossbows were barely legal even for police forces and the traditional bows were strictly exhibition only. Sure they worked, but she'd have to make her own arrows –she did know how– and they were highly distinctive.

Satisfied with her haul, Helene asked Bel the question that had been on her mind since discovering she'd been given a Masamune and two Muramasa blades:

"Bel-hiko, this can't all be the weapons shipment Nono agreed to. Is some of it a birthday present?"

"Ushishishi baronetessa, you know it's unlucky to give blades," Bel reminded her. "It's payment. Squ-sempai says we owe you big."

"Owe? For what?"

Bel's smile widened. "Some information you gave him last year, apparently. Turns out you were right about something relating to Boss and we have to pay you properly for it or you end up in violation of your contract."

Helene blinked, then remembered her last night in the Varia safehouse when she'd told Squalo her theory regarding Vongola Flames.

"But it was just a theory!"

"It was correct," Bel insisted. "Squ-sempai said so." His smile vanished. "And why on earth did you agree to that clause in the contract, _contessa_? It's, it's wrong!"

Helene blinked, nonplussed at the idea of Bel finding something morally repugnant, then inquired, "Which one?"

"The one about heirs," Bel ground out.

"Oh. I didn't like that one either, but Nono insisted. I don't think he was sure Federico would be suitable even then and wanted a chance at another heir. I didn't know about Tsunayoshi then. Think, Bel-hiko: what would happen now if Xanxus couldn't be unfrozen and Iemitsu's boy proved unsuitable?"

Bel frowned. "It's still pretty shitty. He could have made Iemitsu deal with it; it _is_ the idiot's fault for joining the CEDEF in the first place."

"But I'm not Famiglia and Timoteo finds it easier to burden someone he doesn't care for personally than make what he thinks are unreasonable demands of Iemitsu," Helene sighed, then brightened. "Don't worry, Bel-hiko: he won't get my firstborn."

Bel blinked, then cackled evilly. "USHISHISHISHI! You are a wicked woman, baronetessa."

"Don't spread it around, please hiko? You'd ruin my reputation," Helene told him with a wink.

Bel wandered back into the bedroom, still cackling. "Don't worry; your secrets are safe enough," he assured her over his shoulder. "Now I really must be going; that mission is calling my name."

* * *

The 'hiko' suffix means prince. Thus endeth the second half of Bel's visit; Lambo and I-Pin have gone out with Haru and gotten lost, as per the manga episode. More clues as to Helene's heritage abound, as do references to the contract with Nono.


End file.
